Green Ink: the frothings of a raving lunatic.

Christmas Eve 2005 (#melt)

How bad would it be for a family to have to explain how the matriarch both drowned and was electrocuted in a pond on Christmas Eve?

-------------

"Mom, it's only five dollars," I said. I knew she felt torn and wanted a reason to buy it.

My mother never bought frivolous things, but neither could she turn down a bargain. "But we already have a tree," she replied.

"We could decorate it and put it outside, maybe in the middle of the pond."

My mother looked at the robust little tree leaning casually against the brick wall outside the drugstore. It was getting late in the afternoon. No one else would probably buy it. She glanced at the price tag again. "Ok, let's do it." A smile spread across her face. I bought the fragrant evergreen and we strapped it to the top of my grandmother's car.

All three generations of women enthusiastically embraced the idea of a second outdoor Christmas tree and we quickly trimmed it. An obscenely long orange extension cord snaked through the white snow as we hefted our prize to the edge of the frozen pond.

Weeks remained before the pond typically melted.

I set the tree down on the edge and stepped out onto the ice to slide it into the middle. A loud crack reverberated across the pond.

"Well, maybe it can just stay here along the shore," my mother said as I quickly withdrew my foot. 

"Good idea," I agreed, testing the ice again, this time a bit more gingerly. A second groan and creak returned from the pond. 

"You are being ridiculous," said my grandmother standing at the back door dressed in a down coat, sweat pants, and 1980's moon boots. She swayed a bit, hunched over her walking stick, a cigarette dangling from her lips. "That ice is frozen solid."

"I wouldn't go out on it," argued my mother.

"Chickens," said my grandmother. She snuffed out her cigarette, grabbed a second walking stick and began tediously wading through the snow and down the incline from the house to the pond.

"No," said my mother as we both watched horrified, as my grandmother, gait too unstable from polio to walk on ice, got down on hands and knees and started pushing the lit Christmas tree out into the middle of the pond.

"Buuuuck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck," called my grandmother in her best taunting fowl voice.

"I'm going to go unplug the tree," I said, hastily trotting back to the house. "So we only have to explain how Oma drown on Christmas Eve."