December 13, 2023

The Long Reach

The lights from the Christmas tree give added luster to the old football trophy which stands proudly, though maybe a bit more weakly, on the mantle, its home for many years.

Grey Mason looks at the shine on the trophy, the golden ball carrier with knees high, one arm cradling the football, the other ready to strike down an unseen opponent, ever-defiant.

The trophy needs no words to accompany it but there they are, Hoboken Snow Ghosts, State Champions, 1986, Grey Mason –MVP.

Grey thinks of the mud and can feel the cold of that day they claimed the trophy. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The celebrations went on for weeks. The pretty girls, the old men patting them on the back.

There was a parade. There were parties. Beer, cigarettes, loud music, lettermen jackets.

And then, there was Christmas. The first Christmas as champion, the last Christmas as a son.

Mom had died years before and then, on that Christmas Day, he and Dad slept late, opened gifts, got drunk and played catch with the football in the yard, the bitter cold slapping at them through the darkness.

It was a grand Christmas.

Dad fell asleep with the cigarette still burning and…Grey woke up to smoke, to flames. And…God he could run so fast.

He was able to save the trophy, though.  It was that frozen Christmas.

The ghost of Christmas now.

Grey grabs the trophy and feels its coolness. He imagines using it to shatter every ornament on the tree and then throwing the trophy through the window.

He sees himself doing it. Few daydreams are easier to hatch.

He puts the trophy back on the mantle then turns it backwards so it cannot see the Christmas tree. It faces the wall. And closes its eyes. --TK