American library books » Family & Relationships » Merry Christmas Mom by B. Barnett (highly illogical behavior .txt) 📕

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me from noticing. Still refusing talk to me. The look in her eyes is that of a stranger I might talk to on the street. Just to be polite, but with no knowledge of whom I am. The silence feels cold, almost lonely. The thought runs through my head, I’m sitting here with my mom, the one person I use to share all my hearts thoughts with and now she doesn’t even know who I am…”Berta? Yes, that’s me mom. Berta, my baby? You’re not little any more. No I’m all grown up. Little I’m not. She smiles at me. Quietly in my thoughts, Thank you Lord She’s back. We’re going to see my sisters. Yes we are. It’s Christmas. Yes it is. I smile big. She smiles and nods her head. We’re going to see my sisters. Yes we are. She smiles bigger.
It’s about an hour and a half drive. But today it feels like ten. The silence is so deafening. But we’re almost there. Mom, we're going to stop by the store. What for? I need to pick up a camera. Oh, ok. I pull off the freeway. There’s a Drug store just ahead. I pull in and park. Open the trunk and pull out her wheel chair. Come on mom go in with me. Alright. She slides herself out of the car and into her chair. I push into the store doorway. The lady behind the counter says happy holidays. I smile. Mom just stares at her. Says nothing. I stroll down to the counter where the disposable cameras are. I pick one out and we’re off to the check out counter. There’s a different clerk here. She looks up and says Happy Holidays. I smile and say Merry Christmas. The clerk just glares at me. Mom glances at me and then stares at the clerk saying nothing. Then she turns and glares at me. The look she has in her eyes, gives me a sinking confused feeling. I pay the clerk and we’re on our way to the car. I help mom into her seat. She glares at me. Mom, are you OK. She rudely turns her head away and closes her eyes. I buckle up her seat belt and put her wheel chair back into the trunk.
I climb into the driver seat, slip my key in the ignition and realize she is sobbing. Mom, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sorry for what, Mom? I made you do all this. I’m sorry. What did you make me do? I made you buy all these gifts. I was confused. I’m sorry. She sobbed even harder. Mom, what do mean? I thought it was Christmas. I was confused. I’m sorry. She sobbed even more. Mom, it is Christmas. No! I don’t want you to do that. I’m sorry. She sobbed harder. Mom, please stop crying, it is Christmas. You’ll feel better when we get to the family party. I buckle up my seat belt and start my engine. Slowly I pull out of the drive way. Mom is still sobbing. I begin driving down the highway. STOP! She grabbed the steering wheel throwing the car into the right lane I screamed, MOM... I pulled over and parked, my heart beating so hard it felt as though you could see it pumping through my chest. Breathing in deep, almost panting I looked up at mom. Her voice is loud and harsh but apologizing, “I know I get confused. You don’t have to do that. Do what mom? You don’t have to pretend for me. I know it’s not Christmas. I know it’s a Holiday, I don’t know which one but don’t pretend for me, she yelled through her tears. Take me HOME!
Mom, it is Christmas. I don’t know what’s wrong. Please stop crying…please. You STOP! STOP NOW! Take Me HOME! That lady in that store said Holidays. I SAW THE WAY SHE LOOKED AT YOU WHEN YOU SAID MERRY CHRISTMAS. You just STOP!

I began to cry. Tears rolling down my face, Mom, it really is Christmas. People in stores don’t say Merry Christmas any more. They say Happy Holidays. TAKE ME HOME! I don’t want to play this game with you any more. I don’t like being treated like a child. Take me home right now and don’t talk to me any more. And I mean it. She closed her eyes and turned away from me, refused to listen or even look at me.

I sat there panting, staring out the windshield of the car, stunned, and confused. I don’t what to do, Should I take her to the party, should I drive back home. Lord, help me. What do I do? I slowly looked over at mom. I stared at her for a few moments. She opened her eyes, glaring back at me, slowly her eye move into a squint with anger. She opened her mouth in slow motion and her voice came out cold and still. “Take.. Me Home!” I swallowed deep and hard. My body froze. I whispered. “ok", mom” Started my engine back up and slowly headed for the freeway. The drive felt like a life time. She closed her eyes and never said another word to me. She kept her eyes closed and head pointed toward her side window. In absolute silence with mom sitting next to me I drove home. The silence was more piercing than standing alone in a total empty room. I looked out the top of my windshield into the unknowing path of the clouds, I feel like I’m walking through that path, never knowing what I might encounter. I glance over at mom. She looks as though she is sleeping. Finally we pulled up in the driveway.
Are we home? Yes mom. She opened her eyes. Get my chair. I glanced over at her. Opened my door and slowly slipped out of my car. Tears streaming down my face I open my trunk, pulled out her chair. I stopped for a moment…composed myself and opened her door. Without saying a word she slipped herself into her chair. I pushed into the house. The coach, she ordered. I pushed her over to the couch. She stood herself up and over to the coach and lay down. Get me a blanket. Another order, I obeyed, and covered her up. Turn on the T.V. Another order, Again, I obeyed. Turn it up. She commanded this time. I looked at her and stood in front of her in my Christmas dress very still. She glared for a few moments, with sarcasm in her voice, pleaded out, pleeaassee. I broke out a slight smile and turned the sound up. Standing in the middle of the living room I stared at the television for a few moments, then slowly walked away to change my clothes. As I crept down the hall way I paused at my bedroom door and whispered… Merry Christmas mom.

By: Berta Barnett
December 2009
Imprint

Publication Date: 01-31-2010

All Rights Reserved

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