Greeted at the door by Mrs Kinkad’s sons we did the obligatory, uncomfortable man hug and back slapping. There was a nervous laugh and a deep sigh of relief. We were old friends and had a lot of history together. Beasley was down from Boston and his brother was at the house regularly caring for their Mom.

I looked around the house; a lot had changed since we were kids. Mr. and Mrs. Kinkad had renovated and updated their home. It was different, new, but still washed in stories and memories of years gone by. All the updating in the world could not change that space. After some small talk I asked: “How’s Mom?” “She’s upstairs resting I’ll let her know you’re here” said Beasley. He came down stairs and said, “Dude, come on up Mom wants to see you”. You know how many times I walked up those stairs? This time was different.

The room was dimly lit and warm. Mrs Kinkad was tucked beautifully under her covers, she looked peaceful and serene. She held my hand and we talked. Like a hundred times before she asked about my family, my job, Florida, my health and am I happy? She smiled and I tried not to cry.

Then she said to me, “What do you want for Christmas?” I was so caught off guard, what could I possibly want or need, everything paled in comparison to what Mrs Kinkad might want or need. I laughed that nervous laugh and said, “Gee Mrs. Kinkad I hadn’t thought about it I don’t know”. She squeezed my hand and looked into my eyes and said, “You know what that tells me? It tells me you need for nothing and all your needs are met”. It was Christmas Eve, and who was I to disagree with Mrs. Kinkad.

She reached up to hug me, we kissed and said good bye. Me and the brothers made our way downstairs. We sat at the kitchen table and like a hundred times before we told stories and laughed. Christmas Eve had become Christmas morning. There is something special about following Christmas Eve into Christmas morning and this night was very special. We said good bye and stepped out into the night air.

It was your typical winter evening in Jersey, clear, cold and still. However nothing about this evening was typical. I looked back at 42 Clarke Road for the last time.

A couple months later Beasley called and said, “Dude can you fly home? Mom has left to see Bruno”. That flight was very different.