“God knows we deserve an exciting Christmas this year,” I said to my husband, Marcus, one night shortly after Thanksgiving 2021. “What if we surprise our families and just show up in Indiana unannounced? Wouldn’t that be perfect?”
We’d spent the previous Christmas camped out at the hospital, alone, frightened and cut off from family support by pandemic restrictions. Our three-year-old son, Reese, had been diagnosed with leukemia. Now, after a year of grueling treatment and nonstop prayers, he was in remission. His doctors had given him the okay to travel. A ton of family was only a day’s drive away. This Christmas called for a real celebration.
“Let’s rent an RV,” Marcus said, “like in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” Our favorite Christmas movie featured the hapless Griswold family, whose every holiday plan went awry in an entertaining romp. “I’ll even dress up like crazy Cousin Eddie!” It sounded like a real adventure.
I combed RV rental sites and found just the right 33-foot-long motor coach to comfortably sleep Marcus, me, Reese and his big brother. The boys and I would sit around playing games while Marcus drove. I followed a YouTube video on elaborate wrapping for our gifts. I loaded up on snacks. I even found that Cousin Eddie outfit: white bathrobe, black socks, goofy hat. We’d make quite an entrance.
Days before departure, the RV rental place called. Our reserved RV had been in an accident and the others were taken. It seemed that every RV within 100 miles was spoken for. Except one, praise God.
We went to pick up our—Clunker! There was no way anyone except the Griswolds would rent this dented and dinged RV with an interior that had seen better days. But it would be a means to a perfect end. I could live with that.
In the wee hours of December 22, we were on our way! The kids had the games out before we turned off our street. Marcus picked up speed on the highway. The RV shook. Game pieces toppled. Bottles clinked in the refrigerator. An avalanche of chips and granola bars fell from a wonky cabinet. “We’ll have to go slow,” Marcus said. “Real slow.”
I’d let Marcus’s sister in on our secret. She had concocted an excuse to get as many relatives together as possible at their house that evening. I called to warn her that we’d miss the welcome party. “No one leaves this house till you get here,” she said. “Text me when you’re close.”
Four hours later than planned, I sent our location. Marcus’s brother-in-law, a police officer, waited on the outskirts of town to escort us with flashing lights. We pulled up to the house, and Marcus jumped out in his costume. Everyone rushed outside cracking up. “So this is why we’ve been held hostage!” my father-in-law said.
We slept in the RV that night and the next. Our days were so full, we slept like babies. A bunch of us filed into a beautiful Christmas Eve church service, so much different from the year before. On Christmas morning, we awoke eager to hand out the presents I had hidden in the under-storage area. I swung my feet out of bed and found the floor covered with dirty water. Toilet water. Lord, really? I took a deep breath. “We’ll deal with this later. Let’s get those presents.”
We tiptoed out and opened the under-storage. Flooded. I pulled out one of my YouTube masterpieces and hurled it. “I worked so hard to make this Christmas perfect!” I flung another gift. “Everything is ruined!”
Marcus smirked. “Well, we did say we wanted a National Lampoon Christmas….” Ugh.
I sulked while the others got breakfast ready. Eventually I realized I didn’t know where Reese was. I wandered through the house and followed the music coming from the guest room. I peeked in. Reese was sitting on the floor, staring up at his grandpa playing guitar. It looked like a pretty perfect moment. Why couldn’t it be that simple for me? I rallied for the family’s sake.
Later in the day, we unclogged the toilet in the RV, mopped out the floor and drove two hours—slowly—to spend time near my relatives. Parked at my grandma’s house, we had a joyful, if giftless, reunion with my side of the family.
We packed up the next morning. Not just us. Some of the gang wasn’t ready to say goodbye. We would head to Georgia in a caravan and keep the family fun going. Reese made sure Grandpa brought his guitar. I was glad we’d have reinforcements on the way home. Which turned out to be a blessing when a loose tire barreling down the highway collided with the RV, putting it off the road for good. A van stood in for the final stretch.
Safe and sound back in Georgia, we laughed ourselves silly telling stories from this crazy trip that wouldn’t end until it had delivered all its gifts. It was the family vacation that kept on giving. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. It definitely was not the Christmas I had envisioned, but it would be a hard one to top. Perfect, you might say, for us would-be Griswolds.
