Some of you have noticed I have an unhealthy habit of quoting my (arguably) favorite Christmas movie of all time, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. When will I get help for it? I don’t KNOW, Margo!!!
But for those of you who want to reminisce about the joys and pains of Christmas, but would prefer NOT to hear a yarn from Uncle Eddie about the Yak woman, I present to you,
by A.L. Paradiso
10:55 A.M. In the past hour, I fed the cats and did last night’s dishes. My son went off to work with several more words to me than usual. Eventually, I got to my breakfast cereal with fruits and watched an honors show on my new, giant screen TV.
While I caught up with Facebook, I sent a promising writing link to a friend in Indiana, and yawned a lot. My thoughts wandered to a defrosting turkey waiting for me to break it down; to damages happening to my home due to collapsed gutters; to frustration finding an affordable gutter replacer; to frustrations with family; to my mortality; to Christmases past and future.
I briefly yearned for those hectic, over stressed family Christmases. Once again, I explored a Christmas past when I left a warm family gathering in Pennsylvania, abandoned my dad, risked my life flying cross country to California through multiple severe storms, to keep a promise to my seven-year-old son to be with him for Christmas. After hours of delays, diverted flights, and anxiety, I arrived to a cold, ho-hum greeting which made me better understand and regret my dad’s hurt feelings. Happy Holidays! Right.
Somnus briefly took control. My turkey calls.
Oh, my husband. Who completely forgot he was my husband. Silly, silly Michael.
Don’t forget to turn your entries in to Thorn! Deadline is February 28th, 2022!