Editor's note: A girl who always looks forward to visits with her Great-Aunt May and May's canary, Willy, is terribly disappointed when she thinks she won't see them one Christmas.
My Great-Aunt May lived her whole life in a small white cottage by some very tall pine trees. It was a long trip from our house to hers, so we got to visit only twice a year - once in the summertime and once at Christmas. I loved May very much.
In the winter, we decorated May's tree. She brought the dusty boxes down from the attic, and I carefully unwrapped and hung the fancy old ornaments one by one. Then May handed me a needle and thread to string cranberry and marshmallow garlands. Willy decorated, too. He added dust bunnies and lint, lost bobby pins and birdseed.
And so it went, summer and winter, year after year. But one year it looked as though I might miss it all. During the summer, Mom became ill. This meant we couldn't visit Willy and May. May didn't drive, and no one could take me on the long trip to their house. Dad said, "Cheer up. Christmas will be here before you know it." I didn't want to cry in front of Mom, so I went to my room.
I wanted Mom to get better, and also wanted to see Willy and May. I missed them so much. We wrote each other often, filling our letters with hugs and kisses. Willy stamped his inky feet all over the envelopes.
By December, Mom was better but still needed my help at home. I wrote and told May that we couldn't come for Christmas. My tears turned my words into blue puddles and made my letter hard to read. But I knew May would understand.
One very cold week later, the mailman brought a card from May. It read:
SET A PLACE FOR WILLY AND ME AT YOUR CHRISTMAS TABLE. WE WILL BRING THE PLUM PUDDING! WILLY SENDS HIS CHIRPS.
LOVE, Aunt May
On the day before Christmas, it began to snow. By late Christmas Eve, the winds blew hard. Snow drifted high on the empty streets. The voice on the radio said that it was the biggest storm in years. All the trains had stopped, and the roads were blocked. I knew May and Willy could not come.
I pressed my nose against the frozen window and cried and cried until I fell asleep right where I was.
It was almost dawn when I woke up, cramped with cold. From outside I could hear the muffled sound of bells and a man's laughter. When I looked down into the frozen street, I saw not a man but an old woman with a bird on her head.
I flew downstairs as May peeked around the front door.
The wind blew Willy in over my head, and I spun around to watch xTC him somersault through the air. May followed us into the hallway, where she sat down Willy's cage and the plum pudding and stamped the snow off her feet.
She took off her boots and sset them side by side on the rug. Then she moved to the fireplace and wiggled her toes in front of the fire. "Well, now, this is real cozy," she said, and sat down.
"How did you get here?" I asked in astonishment.
"Oh," May said calmly, "the dearest old fellow, all tinkly with bells and smelling of balsam, offered us a ride."
"A ride?" I asked. My eyes grew wider. Willy darted to May's head and peeked over her curls.
"Oh, yes," May continued. "His sleigh was overflowing with packages, so we had to squeeze in. But he didn't seem to mind. He just laughed and laughed."
"Who was he?" I asked.
May cocked her head to one side in puzzlement. "I know he must have told me, but now isn't that just like me," she said. "I can't remember his name." Then she chuckled and hugged me close.
WILLY AND MAY: A CHRISTMAS STORY by Judith Byron Schachner. Copyright Judith Byron Schachner, 1995. Published by arrangement with Dutton Children's Books, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.
Pub Date: 12/23/98
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