Page 1 of Holly Jolly
1
Ethan
December 23rd
The drive down Quartz Avenue this afternoon to my mother’s residence was much worse than I remembered, due to the reflection of the glittering, white snow that was blinding me. It became worse when some woman in a Honda Civic pulled out right in front of me and forced me to blare my horn. I swerved slightly into the other lane and passed her.What is with people?When learning to drive, my mother always made it clear that you wait your turn to pull out into traffic, and the rule was that the driver was supposed to make sure they could get up to speed limit, without slowing down traffic behind them. Apparently, this woman had never heard of that.
Christmastime was upon us, and most shops had decorations of some sort outside their stores, along with the many who were walking down Main Street toting shopping bags filled to the brims with children’s toys. I wasn’t that interested in celebrating after being left at the altar last year by Veronica. What she did was unforgiveable, but at the same time, we were supposed to be married and starting a new life together, but instead, she up and left me without any explanation.
The snow was one of the reasons I left Michigan in the first place. In December, it had harsh winters, and by the time I graduated college, there was no interest in coming back here to deal with that again.
Texas was much warmer. Winter there wasn’t that bad, in fact, in the eighteen years I’d lived there, I’d only seen snow a couple of times. The funny thing was though, when it did snow, the Texans forgot how to drive, even if it was just an inch of snow. If only they had to drive in Michigan, they’d be screwed.
The rental car came to a stop in my mother’s driveway, and she doesn’t wait until I get out of the car before she darted out the door.
“You’re finally here, Ethan. Baby, it’s so good to have you home for Christmas,” she said, throwing her arms around my neck.
“Mom, calm down. It hasn’t been that long,” I replied. Her gray hair came down to her shoulders.
“Well, at any rate, I’m glad you showed up.”
As a child, Christmas was the biggest celebration of the year in our house, and it grew with traditions like caroling and building gingerbread houses. Right now, I’d much rather curl up on the couch in front of the fireplace and watch a good horror movie. Yet, I had a feeling my mother already has every second of my visit planned.
After she finally let me go, I followed her to the door, and shake off the slush on the bottom of my boots before going in. The aroma of apple spice was everywhere and carried so many pleasant memories of when my twin and dad were still alive. As mom’s favorite scent, the house smelt of it year-round. Not that any of us ever complained. We wouldn’t dare.
“Listen, I’m not in the right headspace to celebrate this year. Can we just tone everything down?” I ran my fingers through my thick brown hair, trying to get her to listen. “I’d rather not have to drown myself with booze and eggnog.”
“Now you listen here, you’re in my home and we celebrate Christmas. Don’t let Veronica ruin this for you. Forget about her son.”
The next few years were going to be awful trying to pay the debt I racked up from the wedding, since nothing was refundable and my credit cards got maxed out. Thankfully, I had enough miles to get a free round trip flight.
I plopped down on the barstool at the kitchen island and peer around while she put cookies into the oven. “What are those packages for? You need me to take them out to the street?”
She grinned. “No, they’re donations. We gotta take them down to the donation center later. That is, if you are available.”
I might not be in a jolly frame of mind, but I would help my mother anytime she needed. I’m all she has left, and I would feel worse knowing she was alone on her favorite holiday. Although, my mother wasn’t easy to say no to. The woman was scary and very good at talking people into doing things they don’t automatically want to do. When I was little, my father used to joke with her about having mind warping powers.
The boxes were crammed into the rear of her SUV, and the laughter of the kids next door grabbed my attention. They were playing in the snow, and it reminded me of the many winters here in Michigan. One year, we had a snowman building contest, and Mom couldn’t choose a winner, so instead of ten dollars, the prize was hot chocolate and cookies. Those prizes were gold at nine and ten-years-old. Mom had always been the comforter type and never took sides. What was it she used to say? “I don’t have a favorite child. I love you both equally. Don’t make me choose, because I won’t.”
My feet scraped on the door mat, being vigilant not to trail snow into the house, and then my eyes land on the cup placed on the island. I’m not an eggnog fan without rum in it and she knows that. This was her style of trying to cheer me up. The first taste warmed my mouth, and doubt, it would be around long, as I drank it in quick progression. A little liquor hurt no one.
I’ve been mindful not to use alcohol to bury my emotions, as alcoholism ran in my family. She informed me early on about it, and I also had an extremely addictive nature. My mom watched out for me at every turn, and I’m eternally indebted.
“So, how’s retirement been? All you fantasized it would be?” I asked.
Mom retired a couple of months ago after working at a law firm for thirty years. She wanted to take some time and check some things off her bucket list while she was still in good health. I’m hoping to have that same luxury when I’m older, but social security won’t be a thing. So, I’ve been putting more and more into my 401K to help ensure that when I’m older, I don’t have to struggle to pay my bills come retirement age.
That’s one thing that disturbed me to my core. The elderly should not have to worry about their next meal or getting their medication, yet I’ve seen it many a time. My grandparents, before they passed, their social security barely kept them afloat. They had to get part-time jobs just to not get behind on bills. It irks me to think that after fifty-plus years of working their tails off, the government can’t even give them enough to support themselves. Things need to change.
“The Alaskan cruise last month was wonderful. Met so many nice people. You should come on one with me some time,” she responded, while bee bopping around the kitchen getting everything together to make some cookies. “They have a singles-only cruise. You can’t give up on finding your person.”
She got out a stick of butter, some sugar, eggs, and flour. This was her favorite thing to do around the holidays. More ingredients were gathered like cinnamon, ginger, baking soda, and lots more.
“Can I help?” I asked, remembering when I was little, it was my favorite thing to do on Christmas morning.
She nodded, and waved me over to the counter. I started by melting the butter and then letting it cool for a moment while I stirred in the sugar, brown sugar, molasses, and vanilla into the mixing bowl. Once the butter had cooled down, I poured it into the bowl also.
“Look at you,” she said.
