Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Or,” said Dad, “they see what they want to see.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “What does it mean? Is he some sort of alien who emits a mind-altering gas? And what about his dad? That was beyond aggressive.”
“Sounds like a drowning person to me,” said Dad.
“Exactly,” Mom concurred. “He made all these ridiculous threats, but, baby, he can’t ruin us. Or you. Because we don’t answer to him.” She pointed up to the sky.
Why did she always do that? Just because we were Catholic didn’t mean bad things couldn’t happen.
“Then why did I feel like…” I lowered my voice, “like he had the power to do exactly what he said?”
“Sweetheart,” Mom giggled, “you’ve always had a bright, wonderful imagination. It’s true that we didn’t always appreciate it—”
“Especially when she ruined my mower or dug for gold in the pond and destroyed the pump,” said my dad.
The mower was one of those things I took apart as a child. Didn’t put it back together. End of story. The pond, well, panning for gold was messy.
“I think,” said Mom, “that your fascination for mystical, magical things never went away.”
They were not understanding me. “I don’t control what my neighbor sees, and a man can’t appear as different things to different people no matter how great my imagination is.”
“Welp,” my dad bobbed his head, “you are right about that.”
I was expecting him to elaborate, but his words were followed by silence. They were not taking this seriously.
“Thanks. You’ve both been a big help,” I scoffed.
“Meri,” said Dad, “I can’t see gravity, but I know it’s there. I know what it does.”
“And?” I asked.
“Sometimes you just have to accept that you don’t have the answers. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
So was I imagining things? Or were they real? Make up your minds, people! “Pfft! You two are zero help,” I said.
My mom chuckled. “As if you ever needed anyone’s help to figure things out.”
The next day, I tried reaching Beau at my place, but it was no use. He was either on his way or he wasn’t. Though, he’d have to be completely mad to travel up here to the mountains considering the weather. Snow. Snow. And more snow.
If he had any sense, he’d turn around. Not that I knew how he’d get here. Man didn’t have a car. There were no trains or regular buses either.
I headed over to the community center around noon and began helping Libby finish stringing the Christmas lights around the room and across the ceiling. Once the lights were on and the music got going, it would be like the inside of a giant Christmassy gazebo.
“Think anyone will come in this storm?” she asked, looking out the window next to the big Christmas tree by the door. It was decorated with ornaments supplied by the elementary school children. There were sparkly giraffes, ducks, and every animal imaginable made out of bright craft paper.
Is that a glittery poop ornament? Guess the kids were going for the complete zoo look.
“Yes. Absolutely.” I began uncasing the red wine. “Snow doesn’t stop anyone in this town when free booze is involved.” Not that the five thousand residents of our quaint mountain village were lushes, but they did like to party during the holidays. They were also pretty generous when it came to helping one another, and the Holiday Sock and Sip was proof.
“Hey, Libby, we just got the stocking from Rhonda’s Travel,” said one of our helpers. Most of them were seniors from the high school, who were getting extra credit for their civics class. I knew, because I’d been one of them twelve years ago.
Twelve years. Sigh… Am I really that old?
“Wow, man,” Libby crooned. “This is incredible. A week in Greenland.” She shoved the envelope back into the stocking.
“Let me see that.” I walked over and snatched up the stocking. Inside was a one-week, all-expense-paid trip for two to a spa in Greenland. My spa in Greenland. Sleigh ride, reindeer sightseeing, and couple’s massage included. The picture on the brochure was of the exact room I’d seen online with the glass windows, in-room jet tub, and king-sized bed.
Oh. My. God. What were the chances?
“Rhonda must be in a generous mood this year,” Libby said. “She donated a trip to Walrus World last time. I’ll put this one at the top of the display.” She climbed the ladder in the corner of the big room and placed the stocking on the hook at the tippy top of the tree-shaped display.
I need that stocking.
As I continued setting up and testing the speakers, I made a promise to myself: I would bid on that trip tonight with the money I’d saved from not splurging on Christmas this year. This trip would be a thirtieth-birthday present to myself.
Funny, I couldn’t recall ever buying myself anything like this. I always bought gifts, cooked, and decorated for everyone else. Then I worked all year long to pay for it, year after year. I’d deprived myself of enjoying life. My life. That wasn’t to say that I hadn’t enjoyed my parties or all the fun. I loved every second of giving during the holidays. But maybe it was time to move on and set a different course—find new things to enjoy, pursue those bucket list dreams of my own, and push myself out of my comfort zone. I could still love the holidays and explore other things.