The Christmas Olympics

Home for the Holidays

This is not happening, I thought again. I wasn't sure how many times that sentence crossed my mind. This is not happening.

But it was, wasn't it? That's why I was in the car, making the five hour drive back to my hometown of Maple Springs. Because it was, in fact, happening.

Even if it wasn't, because I still couldn't be sure it actually be sure if it was happening. I wasn't sure how long I'd been in the car, my body running on auto-pilot, my brain doing its utmost to disassociate on the road. It worked rather well, as I realized with a sudden jolt that I'd crossed the city-lines of my hometown. A cheery sign read Welcome to Maple Springs!

It didn't take long for me to arrive in the heart of downtown. Maple Springs wasn't very large.

Main Street, aptly named as most of the main shops were located on the street, was already decorated in holiday decorations: garlands twisted with lights and ornaments were strung between the buildings. Lights and garland coiled up lampposts. The buildings strung their own lights around their entry ways and a variety of signs advertised holiday specials.

"It's even December," I muttered, surprised at the unique rage that built upon the early arrival of Christmas. "Thanksgiving deserves to have its own time, for Christ's sake."

I gripped my steering wheel and pressed down on my brakes because the speed limit dramatically decreased from the main highway. I shouldn't have even been here. I should've been in the city with Sarah. I shouldn't have been in the car or had this annoying lower pain in my back from sitting in the car for so long. I should've been at home, sitting on my couch with a glass of wine. I should've been with Sarah.

I should not have been here.

This is not happening. The thought crossed my mind again when I turned off my car in front of my childhood home. I parked in the street, even though there was an open spot in the driveway. I didn't know if I was allowed to use it.

I almost didn't recognize my house: it was dripping in Christmas lights. A giant inflatable Frosty the Snowman was waving outside of the house in the front lawn. He was surrounded by an inflatable snow globe that spun around and an inflatable Santa Clause pulled by reindeer. A combination of classic Christmas bulbs of reds, blues, and greens and drooping white icicle lights hung from the fascia of the house. Classic white lights zigzagged over the eaves of the roof. Giant, light-up candy canes lined the perimeter of the lawn with white lights strung between them. Several LED reindeer and trees were carefully spaced throughout the lawn.

"What the fuck?" I muttered to myself. Had my family always decorated this much at Christmas? I couldn't remember. I tried to remember the last time I'd been home for the holidays, but my memory failed me. In fact, I couldn't recall the last time I'd even been home. It had to been at least a year, maybe more.

I took a deep breath and flipped down the visor in my car to check my eyes. I hadn't cried in a good two hours so I hoped my eyes weren't still showing the telltale signs. There were still a bit puffy, but it would have to do.

I collected my suitcases from the back of my car and hobbled up to the front door. I looked at the key on my keyring and wondered if it would work. Would it be rude to use it?

I decided to knock. No one answered, despite the light on inside the house. I used my key and pushed open the door. What could only be described as a movie set for a Hallmark movie greeted me. There were decorations for Christmas everywhere. A strong smell of pine needles and gingerbread assaulted my seneses.

"Merl? Is that you? You're home early," I heard my mother call from the kitchen.

"No," I said, but my voice cracked and lost its volume. I cleared my throat and tried again. "No, Mom, it's Morgan," My mother shuffled into the entry way wearing a Christmas-themed apron smattered with flour.