The temperature was a brisk 17 degrees. The whipping wind made it feel at best 0. Pulling her scarf tighter around her neck, Sarah was grateful for the old pair of long johns she had found of her grandfathers. Even more grateful that she had thought to launder them the previous week when she went to the laundry mat. Better than any new pair of thin thermals she thought as the wind whipped her skirt around her legs.
Feeling comfortable and pleased with herself she began to walk down Main street to look at the stores and their window decorations.
Surely I’m in Bedford Falls she mused to herself, half expecting to see George Baily running down the road.
The town lit up as a Norman Rockwell photo. The decorations were breathtaking. In an age of plastic and gaudiness, the decorations of Grace Point spoke of, well, grace and tact.
Main Street was outlined in old fashioned street lamps that stood 12 ft tall. Not the streetlights she remembered well from the 70’s and 80’s, as tall as telephone poles and with as much charm. No, these lights, like the town, were from a different era. Each lamp had 2 lights, covered with round white globes. The post themselves were 8” in diameter and made of metal and painted black. Wrapped around them were fresh green cedar garland with tiny white or blue lights wrapped with them and a large red bow at the top of each.
Many decades earlier the town had made wrought iron arches that were mounted from one side of the two story buildings that lined Main Street to the other side of buildings. When driving down Main Street it was as if driving under a magical Christmas land trellis. The arches too were wrapped in fresh garland and lights with red bows across them. Main street itself was only about 5 blocks long but the fairy tale feeling it gave was beyond words.
As she entered the row of decorated buildings, she noted in front of each shop a block of ice that had been carved meticulously into something Christmas related. Art, that was pure art. She Marveled at the ability of these talented people to handle a chain saw in a way that a painter handles a paintbrush. From reindeer and Santa’s to a full Nativity, she was awe struck.
Hot chocolate and candy canes booths were at every corner. The tasteful Christmas music played loud enough to be heard over the claimer of the attendees but not so loud that it had to be talked over.
“Sarah!”
Sarah turned quickly to see Frank, the paster of Grace Points First Community Church, walking her way.
“I was hoping you would come to the festivities. A re you enjoying yourself?”
Before she had a chance to answer, Ray and Leighton joined them on the sidewalk.
The conversation was lighthearted and freeing. Sarah realized at that moment that these people were not just acquaintances to her, but they had become dear friends.
It was at that moment she realized something else, something she wished she would have taken note of before coming to the Christmas parade. She wished she would have noted, that despite the pristine appearance of her grandfather’s long johns, that she would have kept in mind that they were well over 25 years old, which she hadn’t realized until that moment, that years had compromised the strength of the elastic waistband, which at that very moment, she felt lose all its strength as the long johns began to work their way down her backside.
The realization of the situation was a bit startling. She stood there smiling and nodding her head as if nothing was wrong, but she heard not a word that was being spoken. She pondered as long as she didn’t move, she would be okay. However, she realized that their small groups positioning on the sidewalk was foolishly close to the road, and not going to do when the parade started. They would be forced to move back closer to the buildings. She also knew her choices of escaping her current predicament without humiliation was limited if not nonexistent.
She noted as she stood there the long johns were managing to work their way down from gravity, be it at a very slow pace. If she could manage to keep that pace, she could hurry to the parking lot behind the buildings and get to her car to safety.
She continued thinking.
And do what?
No matter.
If she could just get there without humiliating herself, she would worry about what to do once getting to safety.
She decided to test her odds.
“Gentlemen, we should move back.”
She pointed to the one end of Main Street where the floats and participants of the parade had lined up and the school marching band began to play, though standing still.
Taking 3 very measured and very cautious steps toward line of buildings with great anxiety and fear she knew the odds were against her. The long johns had quickly rolled down, like a pair of panty hose that had lost their resistance, to just above her knees.
Ray was saying something, though she had absolutely no idea what it was when she saw all eyes were upon her. She realized she had missed something very important in the conversation that involved her.
“Well?” Ray asked.
Hmmm, how to handle this?
Sarah had no idea.
She couldn’t think of anything except those ancient long johns heading south on her lower half. 25 years old she had estimated, obviously, she had underestimated, now assured they had to be 50 years old or older.
This was so like her, she thought with frustration, getting herself into the most foolish situations.
“I’m sorry Ray. I was focused on the parade beginning.”
Just at that time, as if sent from heaven, the band begin to march.
All eyes, including the 6 that had been with her were now watching the parade. This was her opportunity; it was now or never!
She quickly took another two steps backward towards the building and between some strangers standing there, working her way further from her companions.
Looking in both directions looking for the nearest alleyway to the parking lot when she realized that just to her left was the “Cup of Joe” and it was open! If she could get in there without being seen she could sneak in the bathroom and get the confounded long johns off and pitch them in the garbage. If she couldn’t then she knew she would relive “the slip” incident that brought nothing but humiliation to her when she thought about it. No, she was determined that she would not relive that, neither in memory nor in real time.
Before moving further, she evaluated the situation. She was not missed yet, though what seemed like an eternity had only been mere seconds. However, the additional steps to her escape had cost her. The long johns were now under her knees. Grossly aware now of their position, she had taken a stance of about 2 feet apart to try to keep the ever ascending long johns from slipping down any further. She was grateful for her ankle length skirt and her almost equally long coat she had chosen to wear. Her skirt was loose but not full and the stance she currently was in was only hidden due to her coat, though the long johns were still hidden from the length of the skirt.
It was now or never, she darted for the door of the diner, thankful that the only one that was in there was Jo herself, everyone else was on the sidewalks watching the parade. Jo greeted her warmly but she had no time for niceties. She darted to the short hallway right off of the dining area only to find the bathroom occupied. It was at this moment that she felt the long johns had made their way all the way down and were now wrapped around her left foot, no longer under the hiding protection of her skirt and coat.
It was at this moment she heard a voice.
“Sarah, would you like to step behind the counter and give me a hand?”
She turned to see Jo with a compassionate yet amused grin on her face looking squarely at Sarah’s feet.
Humiliation and gratitude fill Sarah’s heart all at the same moment. Without a word Sarah cautiously stepped behind the counter, removing one boot at a time and sliding out of the entrapment of the duplicitous long johns and pitching them in the trash can.
“It’s magical outside, isn’t it?”
Sarah turned to look as Jo grabbed a rag and began to wipe the counter. Jo paused and gave her a trusting smile. Nothing else seemed needed to be said.
“Yes, magical.”
Just then the bathroom door opened and out stepped Marion Henderson, the town gossip.
Sarah shuddered at the thought of how this would have ended had Jo not offered her haven of rest.
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, warmly patting Jo’s hand before sliding out from behind the counter and walking toward the front of the café. She slid out the front door with great relief and gratitude for the people of Grace Point. Small kindnesses were never small.
Her grandmother used to tell her that small things, good or bad, would add up someday to an unimaginable size. She was learning this more and more to be true each day she spent in Grace Point.
Sliding back into her position by her companions, she wondered if she had been missed.
“Where did you wander off to?” Ray leaned over to ask her.
“I stepped in to say hi to Jo and warm up for a second”.
Ray smiled.
“Got cold uh? Next time you come out to a town event you should try wearing a pair of long johns, they do wonders!”
