Her quick exit felt a lot like brushing off my question. Concerned, I followed her and kept at it. “But you always have the tree and your decorations up before now.” Mom loved Christmas. No matter how poor we were, every year she went all out with decorations. Then we’d turn off all but the Christmas lights and sip cider in front of the tree. Some of the happiest memories of my childhood were due to the effort Mom put into Christmas. “You weren’t going to decorate at all, were you?”
Head tilted to the side, she peeked over her glasses at me. “Don’t make a big deal out of this, Landon.”
I had my answer, as disturbing as it was. “When did you last decorate for Christmas?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her eyes misted over, and she looked away.
“Mom,” I warned, my voice dipping lower than I’d intended.
“Don’t take that tone of voice with me,” she snapped, her head whipping back around to stare at me. “With you and your dad gone, who do you think I would have been decorating for? Myself? Do you really believe I did any of this for myself? Ever?”
Actually, yes, I had believed that. “But you love Christmas.”
“No, I love you. I loved watching you hang ornaments on the tree. I loved listening to you hum carols when you thought nobody was listening. I loved the way you’d sit on the couch and watch Christmas movies with me, pretending to think they were lame but getting caught up in the happy endings all the same. I loved spending the holiday with my family, Landon. I hated it the past seven years without you.” Her eyes were bright with moisture. She blinked, and a tear escaped, but she quickly wiped it away.
“But what about Aunt Martha and Uncle Bill? Don’t they still come for Christmas dinner?”
“Martha and Bill moved to Idaho shortly after you left. They wanted to be closer to Billy and the kids. I thought I told you that.”
She had, but for some reason my mind hadn’t connected the dots. I hadn’t pieced together that my mom would now be aloneallof the time, even over the holidays. The realization knocked me sideways. I’d never thought about what my mom did while I was gone. She’d always been a homebody, content to wrap her life around me and Dad. Although she’d made friends with the moms of some of my friends, she wasn’t close to any of them. We’d been her world, and we’d both left her.
“So, you’ve been spending Christmas alone?” I asked.
“The first few, yes. But then Mercy barged into my life and planted herself here. She really is a sweet young lady. Did I ever tell you how we met?”
Probably, but I couldn’t remember, so I shook my head. “No.”
“I’d dropped a piece of mail on my way in from the box. Mercy was walking home from work and saw it on the sidewalk. As you know, this isn’t the safest neighborhood for a single woman to just stop in and meet her neighbor, but I swear that girl isn’t afraid of anything. She marched right up and banged on my door. I invited her in for a cup of tea, and although she was hesitant, once I assured her I lived alone she joined me.”
“Mom, she could have been a robber or a murderer or something. You shouldn’t have invited her in,” I chided.
“I’d like to believe I’m a better judge of character than that. Besides, at least a robber or a murderer would have added a little adventure to my boring life. Anyway, you should have heard her carrying on about her job at the preschool. She was just a teacher then, and a student on the side, but I’d never heard anyone more passionate about anything in my life. The way she talked about those kids… it made me want to be a part of something again. Made me feel like I still had a role to play in this life.”
The remnants of depression in her voice made my ears perk up. Alarmed that I’d never even considered her mental health, I patted her hand. “Of course you still have role to play, Mom.”
She leveled a stare at me. “If you don’t stop interrupting me, I’ll never get through this story.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
“Mercy believed in the mission of the school and she invited me to volunteer. She made me feel like this lonely old housewife could still make a difference.”
Mom wasn’t trying to hurt me, but her words still cut deep. “I never realized you felt that way about yourself.”
“Children aren’t the only ones who need to be reassured of their value. I know your dad made you feel inadequate, Landon. There were many times I should have stepped between the two of you. I always stood up for you when he and I were alone, but he was just so stubborn and pigheaded. Your dad loved you, and he believed he needed to push you to succeed. He never realized he was pushing you away. I wish I would have done more… said more. Maybe I could have kept him from getting so worked up that night.”
She felt guilt over his death, too. “Mom—”
She held up a hand, silencing me. “I cook for kids now. You wouldn’t expect that to be so healing, but it has been. Lots of these kids don’t eat outside of the school, so I’m solely responsible for their nutrition. I make a difference in their lives, and the day-to-day experience of knowing that I’m helping them is every bit as fulfilling as decorating a Christmas tree for you.”
Every word out of her mouth was unexpected, almost foreign, making me wonder if she’d completely changed while I was gone, or if I’d never really known her after all. Growing up, my mom had always seemed a little one dimensional, but I could see now that she had more sides to her than I’d ever imagined.
“I don’t blame you for leaving, Landon. You did what you needed to do in order to cope with everything. I’m proud of the man you’ve become. Your dad would be proud of you, too.” She cracked a smile. “He probably wouldn’t say it, but he would be. At first, I didn’t decorate for the holidays because I missed you and your dad and was feeling sorry for myself, but now… I’m busy. I’m a working woman, and I have better things to do than decorate for a dead husband and a son who never comes home. If you wanted me to put up a Christmas tree, you damn well should have shown up for a holiday.”
My mom had teeth and a backbone. Who knew? I had nothing to say, no excuses to use to defend myself, so I nodded. “I’m glad you found something that makes you happy, Mom.”
“Volunteer with me,” she replied.
“What?” I asked, certain I misheard her.
