Through the Holidays

The gourmet mini cakes of Christmas. Oh my goodness let me just hijack this italic photo description and go on about these things: we have Coconut/Coconut, Retro, Thin Mint, Raspberry, Almond Cherry, Death By Chocolate, do I need to go on? I have been cutting slices from these babies all day.

A new bed set (I am messing these pillows up as I type) two new Furbies and a Daisy BB gun!

When my brother called in the middle of my shift, I answered my phone.

“Hello,” he said, the syllables broken like his throat was hoarse.

“Hey! Merry Christmas! What’s goin’ on?”

“…Oh. Nothing,” he continued, same distress in his voice. He never calls for no reason. I’m thinking there was a fight at the house or that he was in trouble with the police.

“Yeah, we’ll be heading up there soon. Work has been crazy, the holidays are stressful. You gotta be strong. I’m glad you called me. It’s nice to hear you.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

Pit of despair and pain in my gut as I hear that. It sounds like it could be someone’s last words. It sounds like goodbye.

I challenge his timeline, insisting on what we do during our visit home. If he was winding down his clock I was fighting him at the crank.

Then I said, “I can tell you’re upset and I’m really sorry and I want you to know I can hear you. I hope you know it’s going to be okay even if it doesn’t seem like it. Please don’t do anything drastic while your emotions are taking over. Don’t do anything to yourself or anyone else that would cause the people you love endless pain. If anything happens to you, that would be worse for us than anything going wrong right now.”

He told me not to worry, repeated that he loved me. And that was it. I quickly phoned my mother and told her that Christopher’s call had me concerned.

“A friend of his was diagnosed with leukemia and that he had been crying. I picked him up in town and he kept saying ‘Autumn’ on the drive home, wouldn’t talk. I think he’s counting his blessings and he’s upset right now. I don’t know the friend, probably one of those little druggies in town.”

Well, that was better than it could have been. I still teared up at work, thinking about my brother’s struggles and how he will probably never be able to live normally like it seems ‘everyone else’ does. Like I have just barely managed with the help of people who love me.

The snow finally arrived, after the storms devastated the south. By the time anything made it up this way it was falling in beautiful white flakes. And for a change, I felt like the one in the snowglobe. I was in one of the worlds I care about so much.

Still hadn’t gotten the heater fixed in my car, though. Windshield fogged up on the late drive home until I was a danger to myself and everyone around me. Sight is funny that way – I had been driving unwisely for several weeks as it just started out as little blind spots. Then the glass became more dirty every time I rubbed at it with my hand, worsening degrees of sight. But I could always figure out where I was and I always made it home… until Christmas Eve. As soon as cars started passing from the opposite direction and their lights hit my windshield, I was blind.



4 responses to “Through the Holidays

    • They’re really fun games to have around. I’ve always loved figuring out everything they do and they’re so cute. People have strong reactions to them, though – some people will laugh if they see you have one while someone else might try to attack it and throw it away.

      “It is time to set the Hasbro factory on fire.” – actual comment on the Youtube commercial.

      So, you’ve been warned! ;)

  1. That’s rough regarding your brother. It’s never, ever easy when something like that hits close to home in the family. I’m lucky that I don’t know anyone who has a terminal illness like that.

    Hella close call on the car though. Even closer with the phone clearly trying to kill you.

    As for the furby…ugh. My step sister had one waaaay back in the day and it would randomly go off at like 2 AM and wake up most of the people in the house. The hate fucking flowed right there.

    P.S. Oh my god those cupcakes…

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