Thomas woke up and reached for his glasses by the stand next to his feeble bed. He had always considered his bed to be feeble, not because it wasn’t expensive, in fact it was the most expensive model thirteen years ago, but it always broke down and slugged to the floor at any sign of pressure. His thirteenth birthday was a week away and as he climbed out of bed and changed into a fresh pair of clothes he could not help but wonder if his thirteenth birthday would be any different from his past birthdays. His father David Pinewood had never really enjoyed hosting parties. He believed that friends cost money and therefore chose to live a life of solitude. His mother Chelsie, had died giving birth to him, his father had often described her as energetic and really friendly but chose never to talk about their lives together.
He began to head downstairs and towards the kitchen when he heard a familiar voice yelling outside. Grabbing his shoes and a snow coat, he opened his front door and saw what was creating the disturbance, or rather who was creating the disturbance across the street. He was middle-aged looked like he was in his forties and had a good haircut, which complemented his brown hair. Just like Thomas, this man had the same light to dark shade of brown hair and favored combing his hair in an acorn-like state. As Thomas peered closer he noticed that this man’s car had gotten stuck in the snow. It was no surprise, here in Athlone, Ireland snow was a common sight during March and last night was no exception. He remembered hearing the low whistling sound of the howling wind and seeing white clinging to the outside surface of his bedroom window. He approached the man and saw his brown eyes met his. “Here, let me help you,” he said gently. The man smiled at once, “ Ah! Young Mr. Pinewood, I thought I saw you but I wasn’t certain with all of this snow drifting around, until I heard your voice…” The man paused for a moment as if he were considering going back inside but then resumed. “Ah, m’boy, you really don’t have to help a man like me. I don’t want you getting a cold, and I imagine April won’t be too thrilled once she finds out you’ve caught a cold due to my error!” Thomas recognized the voice now that the wind was dying down; he had heard it last night against the howling of the wind and pondered whether this man been in the very same spot he was now, last night. “It’s fine, really.” Thomas said as he and the man began pushing the rear of the stuck vehicle. They both continued pushing and heaving and he was starting to feel very cold despite his snow coat until at last the car rolled out of the small snow filled pothole. He looked at the man, both of them were wearing a smile on their faces. “Have a…” The man interrupted him. “The name’s Mr. Bucklin, Henry Bucklin.” Thomas’s vague image of the man suddenly became clear. “You’re Mr. Bucklin! The man that helped my father get to his home after the bar accident?” “Why yes” he replied “the very same. “Why don’t you come with me inside have some of April’s hot chocolate, she always makes extra and I’m sure m’boys, William and Charlie would like to meet you!” He motioned with his hand to the different sections of his house as he continued to talk. “Please, I insist, I’ll let5 your father know where you are…” Thomas fumbled in his mind to find the right words, this was unexpected. “Are you sure it’s alright with the rest of your family?” Mr. Bucklin looked into his eyes and said, “They would love it.”
As Mr. Bucklin was leading him to his doorway he began to feel nervous, how would the Bucklins respond when he entered their house. This was all new to him, his father had always been a drunken man. Years of alcohol consumption had corroded his brain and now he mostly lived in a retirement home. He would sometimes call to talk to him as he had no other children but when he was at Thomas’s home he forbid him to socialize with the other teens. As the snow cleared and outdoor lamps became visible Mr. Bucklin turned to face him. “I hope you didn’t mind the long walk from the gates to the house, that’s just there to keep the Garden Gnomes at bay, pesky Gnomes!” They removed their shoes at the front of the door as Thomas built up his courage to ask about the Gnomes” “Blimey!” Mr. Bucklin said astonishment, “you’ve never seen a Garden Gnome?” “Well I have but, just, the ones that don’t, move, their made from plastic.”
