Go back and read
this post for the story behind "Five Small Things Friday".
For this week, here is my list:
1. and 2. Sight and Hearing:
This Christmas Video
3. Smell: Old Spice Aftershave
4. Taste: Turkey Sandwich
5. Touch: Orange
The stories behind the list:
1. and 2. Trissy was on YouTube for some reason the other day, and came across
this version of "Angels We Have Heard On High". Our family has watched it probably a total of twenty times since, and we notice something new almost every time we watch it. The coordination, teamwork, talent, and creativity are almost
brilliant, and the joy and Christmas spirit are undeniably contagious - if it doesn't leave you with a little spring in your step, there may be something wrong with you!
Note: It does have a sort of goofy and completely irrelevant ending. The part I'm bragging on is the beginning of the video 'til the end of the song. Just to clarify :)
3. One of the days I worked at the restaurant this week, an older man came and ordered food. That in itself was, of course, not out-of-the-ordinary at all. What made me notice was the fact that, even though I was not the one who took his order, I could smell his strong after-shave as a breeze blew in the window. I'm pretty sure I can even tell what brand it was - Old Spice. I know, because The Grandfather used to use Old Spice cologne and after-shave. When that scent blew through the open window, suddenly I was a little kid again, standing in the bathroom door, watching The Grandfather carefully scrape white foam off his face. He'd stop occasionally and teasingly offer me a dob of the stuff for
my face. He'd rinse the razor meticulously, then go over his face again. He'd finish off the process with a dash of after-shave from the thick-glassed Old Spice bottle with the ship sailing across the front. Sometimes he'd use the electric razor. On those days, I'd hold my hand out, and he'd gently touch the humming little thing to the back of my hand so I could feel it vibrate. I always felt so important when he'd 'shave' my hand! Again, at the end, the heavy little bottle would come out, and I'd look at that simple yet beautiful image of the sailing ship while he smeared the nice-smelling liquid across his face.
4. Thursday Mom and Trissy and I made turkey sandwiches for lunch with the left-over turkey from Thanksgiving. Whole-wheat bread, sweet pickles, lettuce, mayo, and tiny pieces of white meat, heated in a cast-iron skillet on the stove. First sandwich I'd had in quite a while, and
boy was that toasty thing good!
5. Tuesday in after-school, Joy and the two youngest of
my 'Dr. Pepper kids' and I went outside and threw a football together for a while, then sat and talked. My Dr. Pepper boy went inside and got a little tangerine (or a small member of the orange family anyway) from his lunch box to snack on. I said something about how delicious oranges are, or how much I love them, or something. When her brother got back up to toss the football with one of the other boys, my little Dr. Pepper girl (the youngest of the three - she's probably about eleven) leaned in confidentially and told me, 'I'll bring you one Thursday.' Sweet dear thing!
Thursday came, and I hadn't thought any more about it. It's not that I didn't want it, or that I doubted her, it's just that I'd forgotten. But
she hadn't! In the hubbub that accompanies school letting out, I heard a cheerfully urgent, 'Miss Kyrie!' from the big hall doorway. There she was, hefting her bookbag on one arm and holding the other behind her, her eyes sparkling merrily. She wove her way between people, across the foyer, to where I was standing, looking over her shoulder as if on some secret mission. She came level with me and mysteriously slipped a small round thing into my hands, her eyes shining and her lips forming that pretty little mischievous smirk of hers.
'Aww!' I exclaimed. 'You remembered!'
'Don't let [the Dr. Pepper boy] see it!' she whispered.
I obediently cupped it between my hands. 'Why not?' I asked, leaning in, copying her secretive manner.
'Cause he don't want to give 'em away!' Her shoulders shivered and her dimples deepened as she giggled confidingly. She slipped away into the milling crowd of students.
I looked down at the small round fruit. It was smooth and bright orange, a little bigger than a golf ball. It fit perfectly between my cupped hands. I enjoy oranges almost too much to describe, but the young friend's love that that little fruit represented, meant more to me than a truckload of oranges.
Later, as she and her sister and bother climbed into their mother's vehicle (their mom is a teacher at the academy, and they're usually some of the last to leave), she turned back to where I stood in the school's front door.
"I hope you enjoy your orange." she said, with a mixture of pride and shyness.
I grinned. "I
will!"
