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sandy

“You’ll be the talk of the town.”

I can admit I was wrong.

Does it feel good? Absolutely not.

Would I give everything to have Mom back and apologize? Without a second thought.

Life doesn’t always give second chances. And, sometimes, it’s too late anyway.

I’m caught in a loop I can’t seem to get out of.

“Can you put on a Christmas record, Lovebird?”

Dad’s voice draws me from my inner torment that’s fresher than usual since it’s the first Christmas without my mother. I miss her so much.

“Anything in particular?” I ask as I rise from Mom’s old sitting chair in the living room and make my way over to the table in the corner that houses the record player.

When he doesn’t respond, I look over my shoulder. He’s sitting by the window, watching the snow gently fall. It’s beginning to cover the grass. Based on the weather reports, we have plenty more coming. My daughter, Nora, will be pleased, especially if it stays long enough for her wedding reception.

Dad’s holding my dog, Skeeter, in his lap. It may as well be his dog now since all Skeeter wants to do is nap in his lap all day. It’s Dad’s expression that haunts me, though. He suffered a head injury before I was born. Couple that with old age and many decades later, his mind is often a mess. His lips are tugged into a slight frown which means he’s undoubtedly thinking about Mom.

This is my fault.

Not her death.

The utter lack of joy around here. I’m guilty of only finding it in me to smile when Nora’s around for a visit with her husband, Elias, and mostly because I don’t want her to worry about me.

You could pull the Christmas decorations out of the attic…

As soon as the thought enters my mind, my stomach twists painfully. There are so many childhood memories up there. Not all of them were good. In fact, there were plenty of Christmases where Mom silently cried into her teacup while I opened gifts.

It always felt like I was never enough for her.

Second place to her love for my dad.

I walk over to my father and gently squeeze his shoulder. “Bing Crosby?”

He reaches up and pats my hand with one of his weathered, wrinkly ones. His touch is grounding and does wonders for my aching heart. “That’d be great. Bing sure knows how to croon.”

I kiss the top of his head and then make my way back over to the records. Once I have one of Bing’s Christmas albums selected, I put the record on and let it play.

The icy pain that has always coated every inch of this house thaws a little. One day I wonder if it’ll be the warm cottage Dad brought Mom to all those years ago.

I leave the living room to escape the music and to peek out the kitchen window at my daughter’s house. The best part of leaving New York, and my inattentive ex, Ron, was this. Nora. My baby girl, now pregnant with her own little one, is just a short walk away.

It’s crazy to think this time last year I was planning Ron’s company Christmas party and trying to squeeze in time to fly Mom out to see us. Nora was always busy with work and her ex-boyfriend. Christmastime was fast-paced and chaotic.

Now, it’s dragging.

The house next door is lit up with Christmas lights. Elias is a little on the grumpy side, but he’s a perfect match for my daughter, and always indulges her whims.

Ron was never like that.

Upton was, though.