By Corey Colombin
Miriam Louise Pembroke Walker insisted that the monthly family dinner for December be on Christmas Eve. There would be no alterations and no acceptable reason to be absent. The family in its entirety would be present, of that she had no doubt. She had a secondary reason to demand the entire family be seated around the big table on that day: Not only was it the eve of the celebration of the birth of Jesus, it was also the birthday of Miriam Walker herself. And despite the busy lives of all family members, and their sometimes very legitimate excuses, she had never yielded, and she would certainly not yield now. Especially on this, the occasion of her 85th birthday.
She touched the pendant hanging on the long silver chain around her neck. It was an art piece, a messy wire nest cradling four pearls—one for each child she bore. She remembered the occasion on her 39th birthday when her late husband had given it to her. A faint nostalgic smile tipped the corners of her mouth. All these years later and it still shone beautifully. Oh, Frank. He was so proud to present the flat box to her at that year’s dinner. Of course, at that time, the children still lived at home, so having them all seated around the table was easily arranged. How proud they all were to be part of it. Lost in the memory of that night, she pictured them cheering when he stood and clasped it around her neck. Frank was good like that—setting such a fine example of how a man should be. He’d been gone these past 15 years, and still she ached from missing him. Not in the every-moment-of-every-day way, but in the small things—like his hand reaching for hers in the morning while they stirred awake; his voice; his sage advice; his infectious laugh; his presence, even when they sat in the same room absorbed in their own thoughts, sharing a companionable silence. Miriam sighed.
“She was a good person, really, but truth be told, Miriam never really warmed to her.”
They were due to arrive in a half hour. First would be Frankie, Frank, Jr.—he was always arriving first along with his wife, Charlotte. Next, and usually together, Marianne and Jocelyn (Josie) along with their families—which now include grandchildren—and then, as if time did not apply to her, Callie, the baby, would tumble in. Callie, who was happily divorced, usually brought her latest boyfriend. Miriam enjoyed grilling the boyfriends. She considered it good sport to make them squirm and stutter. But not tonight. Tonight, it will be just family.
Miriam strolled into the dining room. Her housekeeper, Emma, had helped set the long dining table before she left, and it sparkled. She even set up the kids’ table complete with crayons and coloring books. What would she do without Emma? Setting the table was done only after she made a gorgeous dinner to perfection. The kids and grands would bring sides and some dessert. Miriam insisted on making her own birthday cake: her specialty tiramisu. Even at 85 she could pull that off. It was chilling in the refrigerator at this very moment, poised for that special moment after dinner when coffee was served. Then, when the whole family was gathered around the big Christmas tree and the gifts had been given out, she would make her big announcement. It was planned out to the tiniest detail.
She was inspecting the Christmas tree in the living room, straightening ornaments, when she heard the door open and the commotion that followed. “Merry Christmas!” came the shouts from the foyer.
“Let the games begin,” Miriam said out loud. She positioned herself in front of the tree, braced to greet her busy, loud, amusing family—all 28 unique and, in her opinion, utterly enchanting members, large and small.
The first to burst into the room were Frankie and Charlotte’s grandchildren, Emmie, Meghan and little Mary, only 3 years old. “Happy Birthmas, Grandma Great!” they shouted. It was a longstanding game for them to mix and meld Happy Birthday with Merry Christmas. They hugged her and quickly moved on to admiring the Christmas tree—which was chock-full of interesting ornaments collected over many decades—and the surprises she set on low branches for them to find. Then Frankie rushed forward with a kiss on her cheek. “Happy Birthday, Mom. You look wonderful!” he said, giving her a once over. Miriam always felt a bit under the microscope when he gazed at her. It felt less like admiration and more like assessment. As in, how is the old gal holding up? Being a physician, she supposed he couldn’t help himself. He was followed by his wife, Charlotte—a beautiful woman with classic features. She swooped in with a surface hug and waft of expensive perfume. Her expertly styled dark hair shone in the light of the Christmas tree. She was a good person, really, but truth be told, Miriam never really warmed to her. They lived in one of those McMansions visible from the Parkway. Miriam herself lived in an old home on Stagecoach. It was a sprawling home on a few acres at the end of a secluded lane. Somehow it felt more real to her, especially since she and her husband had made it their own, one room at a time.
As predicted, next to arrive were Marianne and Josie with their prospective broods. They settled in a neighborhood two doors away from each other. They shared a room and exchanged secrets growing up and they adapted their adult life to keep that comfortable arrangement going. Luckily, their husbands were both cut from the same cloth, too, so it was a happy melding of households. It was a safe bet to imagine them cooking their dishes together in Josie’s kitchen, which was the one most recently remodeled. They swooped in with roasted balsamic Brussels Sprouts, two freshly baked sourdough loaves, toffee cashews (artfully gift-wrapped), and carrot cupcakes for the grandkids. They entered the living room in a herd and a flurry of hugs and kisses. The grown children and their spouses said hello, and quickly headed for the bar. The seven grandchildren gave hasty hugs on the way to join the others picking out their favorite Christmas tree ornaments. Miriam hid sweets on the tree, and the grands knew they were fair game, as long as they didn’t squeal to their parents. Grandma Great’s rules at Grandma Great’s house was law, passed down from oldest to youngest.
It was while they were enjoying their second cocktail, and dinner was almost ready, when Callie arrived. Classic Callie, she threw off her wool wrap and came in looking like her busy schedule barely allowed her to come at all. In reality, her busy schedule usually involved an adoring man who couldn’t bear to be separated from her charming presence for even one night. When she leaned in for a hug and kiss, Miriam whispered in her ear, “New boyfriend?” Callie nodded with a wicked smile. “Wait ’til you see this one. He’s yummy!”
“That remains to be seen. The real question is: Can he hold up to my scrutiny?” Miriam challenged.
“We’ll see.” She said with a sassy sashay to the bar.
With Miriam at the head of the table, and with the opposite head empty, as it had been for the past 15 years since her husband’s death, she tapped her spoon on the side of her crystal wine glass, signaling that she wanted to speak. When all eyes were on her, Miriam cleared her throat. In her aggravatingly shaking voice, she addressed her family.
“Thank you all for coming tonight on this, my 85th birthday. I want to share with each of you this new scientific development.” She held up a small glass vial. It shone in the light of the chandeliers. “The scientists at School of Mines have analyzed this soil sample extensively and have determined its origin to be precisely 83 years old. I assume you have deduced the significance of this finding, but let me say it plainly: It means I am officially older than dirt.” Laughter erupted around the table and quieted when she continued. “And so, from this distinguished and elevated level of scientific importance, I look upon my family with gratitude and pride. You are the past, the present, and the future. It’s quite amazing when you think about it. All these blessings and more gathered around this table together to celebrate one old woman getting older still is a wonder worth taking note. Separately, we’re interesting, but together, we’re a force to be reckoned with. That’s the thing with family.” Everyone raised their glasses. Even the children with their plastic tumblers knew the protocol. “To family,” Miriam said, and it echoed around the table amid the clink of crystal.
