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Sophia
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I finally make up my mind about whether I’ll go to my mom’s for the holiday on Christmas Eve. I had originally thought I’d just stay at my apartment because I didn’t want to ruin Christmas for her with my bad mood. But then I thought about how she’d be all by herself if I didn’t come to visit, so I decided to buck up and go see her.
It’s hard to believe that Christmas is tomorrow already. The last few days have been a blur and I’ve mostly stayed in bed to nurse my broken heart. Occasionally I moved out to my couch and turned on the TV for a change of scenery. That generally resulted in me turning off the TV about two minutes later because it seemed like all the shows and movies were about mushy holiday couples. That’s the last thing I want to see this soon after a nasty breakup, so it’s been better to just avoid TV entirely.
Thankfully, my Christmas shopping was already done before my life blew up, so I don’t have to worry about fighting the holiday madness at the stores to buy last-minute presents for my mom. I finish loading my weekender bag into my car next to the wrapped presents and go back into my apartment to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.
The apartment looks depressing, like it’s lost hope and has just decided to hunker down and hide for the rest of the winter.
Oh, wait...apartments don’t have feelings. That’s how I feel. I’ve given up hope.
I shut and lock the door with a grimace, worried about how I’m going to hide these negative thoughts and emotions from my mom when I’m with her. She knows me so well that she’ll probably figure out something is wrong right away. I wonder to myself if I should just tell her what happened.
I get into the car and turn up the heater right away. It’s cold outside, but at least it’s not snowing. I turn off the music on the radio, wanting to drive in silence at least for now. I try to quiet my thoughts as well, wanting my brain to have total peace and quiet on this road trip.
My mom lives three hours away from me, so I decide to make the trip without any stops. Eventually, the silence in the car seems to intensify, as if my ears have noticed that they haven’t heard any sounds for too long and have turned up the volume. I end up switching on the radio to get rid of the silence but turn the station knob away from Christmas music. I just don’t have the energy to listen to cheerful songs right now.
When I pull up in front of my mom’s condo, I take a deep breath before getting out of the car. I try to muster up enough energy for a smile as I walk up to the front door, wanting to put on a good show for my mom so she doesn’t worry about me.
She answers the door and gives me a big hug on her front doorstep.
She squeezes me tight and says, “Merry Christmas, honey!”
I give her a weak smile and say, “Merry Christmas.”
I’ve set my weekender bag on the ground for our hug, so I lean down to pick it up.
My mom offers, “Do you need help bringing stuff inside?”
“No,” I reply, “there are only a couple more things. I can go out and get them later.”
She nods and swings the door shut behind us. I automatically go into her office to drop off my bag, knowing that she’ll set up an air mattress in here for me to sleep on later.
Now that I’m here, I’m starting to realize that it’s going to be harder than I expected to put on a smile and not worry my mom by moping around. I decide the best way to avoid any meltdowns will be to keep busy, so I head into my mom’s kitchen and look around for something to do.
I ask her, “Did you make Christmas cookies yet?”
“No,” she answers, “I was thinking we could make some together. Does that sound good?”
I reply, “Sure, that sounds great.”
A look of worry passes over her face as she notes my lack of enthusiasm. I guess I’m not doing a great job of pretending like everything is okay.
My mom doesn’t have everything we need to make cookies, so we head to the grocery store around the corner. It’s busier than usual, but not insanely busy like I had pictured it would be. We wander up and down the aisles, grabbing cookie ingredients and also some snacks and treats for the rest of the weekend.
By the time we get to the checkout lane, I realize I’m smiling for real, not a fake or pretend smile. I had forgotten how much I like hanging out with my mom and how good it is to just chat about nothing with her. Also, the cheery Christmas music is actually making me feel a little bit of the holiday spirit. A spark of hope flickers in my chest and I think to myself that maybe this will be a fun weekend after all.
My happiness fades away quickly once my mom and I are back in her kitchen making cookies.
She asks me, “How are things going with Evan? I noticed you haven’t mentioned him at all since you got here.”
I hesitate to answer, busying myself with the assortment of sprinkles we’ve laid out for cookie decorating.
“It’s over with Evan,” I say bitterly. “We broke up.”
“Oh no!” she says. “I’m sorry. What happened, honey?”
“I just don’t want to talk about it, if that’s okay,” I say, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. The last thing I want to do is ruin our holiday cookie-making tradition by crying like a baby.
She nods and says, “Of course that’s okay. Just know that I’m here if you need to talk, all right?”
I nod, trying to stop my tears. Then I remember my mom went through something similar when my dad left. Maybe she is a good person to talk to about this. She knows what it’s like to have her heart broken by a man.
“Actually,” I say, “I’d like some advice on how to handle a breakup. I know you struggled when you and dad got divorced, but I was so young that I never saw it from an adult perspective. What was it like? How did you survive?”
She wipes some flour off her hands and looks at me. She says, “When we decided to get divorced it was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. You were only ten and I was very aware that you should have a male role model in your life, especially as you got closer to your teenage years. But ultimately, I had to do what was best for me, even if it was the selfish choice.”
I’ve stopped my cookie decorating and look her in the eye. “I hope you know that I don’t blame you for him disappearing.”
“Oh honey, I know that!” she says. “I had no idea when we split up that he would write us off and go build a new life for himself. Honestly, I’m not sure I would have gone through with it if I had known you’d lose the only male role model you had ever known.”
Guilt rips through me and I say, “It was hard growing up with only one parent, but you more than made up for it. You were two parents in one. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”
My mom walks over to me and hugs me tight. I hug her back, so glad to have had this conversation with her.
She wipes tears from her eyes and then says, “I didn’t answer your question though. I survived because I had to. I also knew I needed to keep living my life, with or without your father in it. And I’m glad I did, because I was there for you in a way I wouldn’t have been if I had checked out.”
“I’m glad, too,” I say. “I’m sorry you had to go through that though. Now I know how much it sucks.”
She says, “The best advice I can give you is to not let yourself think your life is empty or meaningless without a man. I am the perfect example! I’ve been alone for fifteen years and I’ve never been happier.”
She pats me on the back and then we keep making our cookies for the rest of the afternoon until her countertops are covered with all kinds of frosted and baked goodies. We look around at our handiwork and smile at each other, both glad that we’ve decided to keep up our Christmas cookie tradition.
We’re both bundled up in her living room in front of the TV later that evening. It’s A Wonderful Life is on the screen, which is a favorite movie for both of us. I look over and see that my mom has dozed off.
I take a moment to look closely at her. She looks fragile as she sleeps and I feel a pang of fear as my mind fills with all the worries I have about her. I know she likes her independence, but I worry about her living alone as she gets older. I wish she was closer so I could be nearby in case she needed anything.
A favorite quote of mine pops into my head. Worry is like a rocking chair; it gives you something to do but it doesn’t get you anywhere.
I guess I need to stop worrying about things that could happen and just appreciate how good things are with her right now. I shift a little on the couch and she stirs, waking up when she hears me move.
She notices me looking over at her and smiles at me. We say goodnight not too much later, both tired from our busy day. I realize that I’m looking forward to Christmas morning tomorrow. I forgot how much I enjoy our tradition of having mimosas and cinnamon rolls before opening our presents from each other.
I decide it’s going to be a good day. I am hopeful again for the first time since Evan and I broke up. My newfound hope doesn’t feel as secure as I’d like, but I realize it’s a good place to start anyway.