floor. Boxes and cellophane wrappers were strewn about. I bent over and began collecting things. Mom went into the hall closet to get out the vacuum. The minute she left the room, a song rang out.
“Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy.”
Hot flashes ripped up and down my spine. I froze. The voice was barely above a whisper but it blew over me, swelled around me. Mom entered the room, dragging the vacuum cleaner by the handle. She grunted from the effort.
“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”
“Do you hear that?” I asked her while she uncoiled the cord.
“What?” Her face bore a blank expression.
“A little boy singing.”
“In here?” Mom chuckled. “Maybe all that sap is getting to you.”
I looked down at my sticky hands. Sap had branded me when we set up the tree.
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I would have had a more competent helper,” I teased.
Mom rolled her eyes and pressed down on the pedal. The vacuum roared to life. Even with the white noise I could still faintly hear the haunting song.
“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”
While Mom painted vacuum streaks in the carpet, I peeked out the window. Scouring the front yard, I didn’t see the little boy. The song faded. My heart-rate slowed. Maybe I was only hearing things. Just as I was about to step away from the window, I saw a small figure scurrying to the house next door.
Chapter Ten
I never imagined Mom would attend church on Christmas Eve. Yet, when I asked her to accompany me she said yes. We scooted into the back row and sat on the hard pew a few minutes before the service started. It was evening and the room was dimly lit with candles glowing on the stage. It looked beautiful and serene. The sanctuary was almost full. Everyone was dressed up in frilly dresses and suits with ties.
Mom wore her signature tight red dress and leopard print heels, but even that didn’t deter my good mood. Most Christmas Eves Mom went out with Carol while I stayed home alone. I crossed one of my legs encased in black tights and settled in, contentment filling me.
“At least the church didn’t burn down when I stepped into it,” Mom whispered, a smile playing on her lips.
“Oh, stop.” I grinned back.
When I looked up, I saw Tanner walking past wearing black pants and a white collared shirt. His musky cologne followed in his wake, stirring up feelings I’d just as soon forget. His head turned slightly and he caught me staring. I averted my gaze and looked at the bulletin in my hands.
“You okay?” Mom nudged my elbow after he’d sat in a pew a couple of rows in front of us.
I nodded, biting my lip. Music started and we stood. Through worship I mouthed the words to the Christmas carols but my eyes stayed glued to the back of Tanner’s head. Every familiar gesture cut to my heart, reminding me of how much I missed him.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Mom said when the service concluded.
Yes it was. I looked miserably over at Tanner as he hurried out of the sanctuary, and wished things were like they used to be. It was Christmas Eve, after all. So badly I wanted to talk with him, laugh with him, hug him. Anything. The cold shoulder and deafening silence were killing me.
By the time Mom and I made our way outside, Tanner’s car was speeding out of the parking lot.
When I awoke on Christmas morning the scent of bacon tickled my nose. I raced out into the kitchen and found Mom laboring over a hot stove. The surprising part was that nothing smelled or looked burnt. When she saw me, a huge smile spread across her face.
“Merry Christmas!” She said.
Joyful tears pricked my eyes. This was such a change from lonely Christmas mornings of my past.
“Sit down. I’ll get you some food.” Mom ran a greasy hand over her apron and grabbed a plate out of the cupboard. “After breakfast we’ll open presents.”
Shame fell on me. “Oh, Mom. I didn’t know for sure if we were doing gifts. I don’t have anything for
“Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy.”
Hot flashes ripped up and down my spine. I froze. The voice was barely above a whisper but it blew over me, swelled around me. Mom entered the room, dragging the vacuum cleaner by the handle. She grunted from the effort.
“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”
“Do you hear that?” I asked her while she uncoiled the cord.
“What?” Her face bore a blank expression.
“A little boy singing.”
“In here?” Mom chuckled. “Maybe all that sap is getting to you.”
I looked down at my sticky hands. Sap had branded me when we set up the tree.
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I would have had a more competent helper,” I teased.
Mom rolled her eyes and pressed down on the pedal. The vacuum roared to life. Even with the white noise I could still faintly hear the haunting song.
“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”
While Mom painted vacuum streaks in the carpet, I peeked out the window. Scouring the front yard, I didn’t see the little boy. The song faded. My heart-rate slowed. Maybe I was only hearing things. Just as I was about to step away from the window, I saw a small figure scurrying to the house next door.
Chapter Ten
I never imagined Mom would attend church on Christmas Eve. Yet, when I asked her to accompany me she said yes. We scooted into the back row and sat on the hard pew a few minutes before the service started. It was evening and the room was dimly lit with candles glowing on the stage. It looked beautiful and serene. The sanctuary was almost full. Everyone was dressed up in frilly dresses and suits with ties.
Mom wore her signature tight red dress and leopard print heels, but even that didn’t deter my good mood. Most Christmas Eves Mom went out with Carol while I stayed home alone. I crossed one of my legs encased in black tights and settled in, contentment filling me.
“At least the church didn’t burn down when I stepped into it,” Mom whispered, a smile playing on her lips.
“Oh, stop.” I grinned back.
When I looked up, I saw Tanner walking past wearing black pants and a white collared shirt. His musky cologne followed in his wake, stirring up feelings I’d just as soon forget. His head turned slightly and he caught me staring. I averted my gaze and looked at the bulletin in my hands.
“You okay?” Mom nudged my elbow after he’d sat in a pew a couple of rows in front of us.
I nodded, biting my lip. Music started and we stood. Through worship I mouthed the words to the Christmas carols but my eyes stayed glued to the back of Tanner’s head. Every familiar gesture cut to my heart, reminding me of how much I missed him.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Mom said when the service concluded.
Yes it was. I looked miserably over at Tanner as he hurried out of the sanctuary, and wished things were like they used to be. It was Christmas Eve, after all. So badly I wanted to talk with him, laugh with him, hug him. Anything. The cold shoulder and deafening silence were killing me.
By the time Mom and I made our way outside, Tanner’s car was speeding out of the parking lot.
When I awoke on Christmas morning the scent of bacon tickled my nose. I raced out into the kitchen and found Mom laboring over a hot stove. The surprising part was that nothing smelled or looked burnt. When she saw me, a huge smile spread across her face.
“Merry Christmas!” She said.
Joyful tears pricked my eyes. This was such a change from lonely Christmas mornings of my past.
“Sit down. I’ll get you some food.” Mom ran a greasy hand over her apron and grabbed a plate out of the cupboard. “After breakfast we’ll open presents.”
Shame fell on me. “Oh, Mom. I didn’t know for sure if we were doing gifts. I don’t have anything for
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