Christmas music rocks from Sheila’s stereo and we dance along, stringing popcorn and cranberries onto a mile-long coil of thread, arguing.
“Is too,” Sheila says.
“Is not!” I declare.
“Is too.” Sheila sighs. “What are we, four?”
“Easter is the biggest holiday, for Christians.”
“Easter is the most important holiday,” she says. “Christmas is the biggest. Come on, a couple little chocolate baskets, versus all this.” She throws her arms out, indicating the red, white, and green explosion around us.
“Semantics,” I protest. “Biggest, most important.”
“It’s two different things,” Sheila insists.
“The entire faith is built around the resurrection,” I argue. “That’s fact.”
“Anyway, think about it—if Jesus wasn’t born, how could he die on the cross thirty-three years later and save all our sins and give us new life, yadda, yadda.”
“Noo,” I moan.
“Next year at this time, I’ll be away at college,” she reminds me. “You won’t have me around to set you straight about these things.” She winks. “I mean, set you on the right track.”
I glance at the doorway, hoping Mom and Dad didn’t hear. “Stop it,” I whisper. “Don’t do that.”
“Oh, Kermie. If I don’t give you a hard time, who will?” Her grin wins me over, as always.
“It’s rarely a value add,” I grumble. “Ow.” The garland needle pricks me, as if to draw my attention back to the task.
“By the way, I’m wearing my green dress tonight. Will you wear a green tie to match?”
“Only if you admit I’m right,” I say, sucking the drop of blood off my finger. “My actual theology beats your gifts versus chocolate theory.”
Sheila pauses her stringing and looks at me with half a smile. “Sure, Kerm, you win. You’re the better Christian.”