SOON
My grandchild’s first retail experience with shops alight with Christmas already!
Forest, stood head to toe in warm clothing, gazes into the store window. The December chill, reddening his small face, all but obscured by a scarf his mother has wrapped around his neck.
Twinkling lights from the Christmas tree inside have the two-year-old mesmerized and looking for all the world like he’d stopped breathing.
“Forest,” his mother called, “come along, sweetie.” No response.
“Forest,” she calls again.
The toddler swivels his head like a baby owl, then turned his attention back to the window.
“Okay, come on, we can go inside.”
“Mommy.”
“Yes?”
“How much longer ’til Christmas?”
“Soon, Forest. Very soon.”
So begins a child’s journey into the dichotomy that is the word soon.
Forest for sure had heard the word many times prior, but only now will he begin to fathom its artful tease. He will learn that soon is either sadness or
euphoria; certainly, a great deceiver of a word, yet ever hopeful.
They say, be careful what you ask for, for you may get it, goes the cliché, but
let soon slip into the equation and most bets are off. I mean, look, think of it this way, Jesus is thirteen years old, his Father tells him he will one day become the Saviour of Mankind. As a boy, don’t you think Jesus is likely to ask when? Care to take a stab at his Father’s answer?
Or how about this, how many people aboard the Mayflower might have asked for an ETA to the New World and were subsequently told, soon. Not soon enough for the seven who died prior to dropping anchor at Plymouth.
Now Forest doesn’t know about the Pilgrims and is probably barely familiar with Jesus though closes his hands in prayer, when reminded. But I can tell you he knows all about Santa Claus.
The hard chill of December and greedy retailers are not cues that most children recognize.
Inside the store Forest is stand, transfixed by the glitter and overtly commercial glamour that is a capitalist Christmas. His every impish hopes rests in his ironclad belief that Santa will assuredly bring him new toys.
“Mommy?”
“What, sweetie?”
“Is soon tomorrow?”
His mommy smiles warmly at him through her woolen scarf.
“You mean for Christmas?” He asks, barely able to pronounce words clearly.
His small head forcefully nods this time, just to be sure she sees.
“No, love. Thanksgiving comes first, when we all get together, and your cousin, Camden will come to see you.”
How many sleeps, mommy?”
“Let me see, darling. Well, it’s only 43 sleeps.”
Forest’s lips form a partial frown. “But that is an awful lot of sleeps, mommy,” Forest stiffly proclaims.
I’m standing there, watching only as a grandfather, not a parent. I want to say to him, see, grandson, stinks pretty bad, doesn’t it. Just when you think you understand soon you then hear that squishy parent sound, well, let me tell you, my grandson, that’s your hope getting stepped on.
Not to worry. In general, the damage is negligible, just a little bruising to your heart; nothing that won’t heal, until a bigger SOON turns into a NEVER.
Happens to everyone, Forest, so try not to take it personally.
So for his first recognizable Christmas, Forest will certainly learn that soon can be a shady character, a word he shouldn’t carelessly neglect or take for granted. It will deliver its share of disappointments, but sometimes arrive as promised.
Time and experience teach us all, from our childhood until our passing.
Soon is forever in our face, but if we look just over its shoulder, we’ll find Hope shimmering in the distance.
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