Breaking Boundaries (unordinary love story)

M I S T Y ~~ Chapter 27: The Holidays

MISTY

"Misty! Misty! Wake up!" screamed Mikey, bursting my eardrums.

It was only 7:00 A.M. in the morning. I rubbed my eyes, my brain fogged with clouds of sleep. "Mikey...go away."

"Get up and look! It's snowing!"

I sat up and looked out through my window. Outside, everything was covered in fluffy piles of snow.

"Oh, wowza," I said, rubbing the fog off my window to see more clearly.

"I hope Santa gives me the new sled I want for Christmas," said Mikey.

Holy cow. That kid still believed in Santa in the fifth grade. Gee, get a grip.

I threw on my mittens and scarf and puffer jacket and hurried outside.

I watched Mikey do all the fun stuff - making snow angels, packing snowballs, jumping in piles of snow. After Max and dad came out to join us, we built a snowman together out in the front, with Mikey doing the honors: the carrot for the nose.

He stuffed the carrot into the middle of the snowman's head. "Just like the cherry on top."

I couldn't love the Holidays more.

~~~

I went to the cemetery on Christmas. Alone. I did so first thing in the morning, while the others were still snug as a bug in a rug snoring (unless Mikey woke to check out his presents under the Christmas tree). I planned to decorate mom's grave, so I brought a Christmas wreath, a candle and a photo of me and my mom. It was my favorite one, with a cute picture frame. Looking at it reminded me of how close mom and I used to be, and reminded me of mom's beauty. I had her blue eyes, and her caramel hair, and her natural smile. I never had to worry about how I smiled on Picture Day, ever. People always said I looked sweet when I smiled, just like mom.

I remembered mom's words in my head. Two years ago, she confided in me saying I was her favorite out of Mikey and Max and me. She said I was probably her favorite person in the world. Then I thought about it, and now that she was gone, I could finally see how much she meant to me in my life. Before she disappeared, I honestly didn't know. She was probably my favorite person in the world too. (Sorry, dad. Sorry, brothers.)

I placed the picture on mom's grave. Then the other stuff, too, and I interposed the candle between the wreath and the picture. I flicked the match head against the striker to light the candle, but the wind and the cold fought it and killed the flame. I tried again. Then again. And again, this time mad and frustrated. Flames barely had a chance to lick the candle wick before they dissipated in a blink of an eye. When it didn't work, I just simply let the candle emit smoke instead of fire. Then I focused on mom's grave. Scrawled on the tombstone, it read:

IN MEMORY OF ADELAIDE P. GATES

FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS

DIED DECEMBER 13, 2010

AGED 47 YEARS

BELOVED WIFE, MOTHER, SISTER, DAUGHTER, AND FRIEND

I found myself kneeling down, holding back tears at the bitterness that washed through me. Forty-seven years was too young to die. Life was so unfair sometimes. I tried to focus on what my mind would tell me. I never talked to a dead person before, not even in my head. It was the first time. I locked my fingers and put my head on the ground as I spoke to the dead. My thoughts poured.

Hey mom. I know you're there, somewhere, in heaven or above. I love you, endlessly. Why is fate so evil sometimes? I wish you would be right here with me right, alive, talking to me in the flesh. It's Christmas; you visited last Christmas. This time it just won't be the same without you. I want to let you know, you are my favorite person in the world, too. No one else knows about this, because it would probably hurt their feelings for them to know, but you are. Merry Christmas.