By Rachel Dzengelewski
We met my mother in a parking lot near her house, my boyfriend and I. The blue spruce we tagged at the farm in November was stuffed in his trunk—tucked among crushed Camel Lights cartons and empty wine bottles. In silence, we placed it in her car—bitter air piercing my lungs. We said nothing of the fact that in November, I didn’t know I would not be welcome home. Nothing about the fight with her boyfriend who would be there on Christmas. I watched as she drove away. Her face in the rearview mirror colder than winter in Maine.
Wonderful evocative imagery and setting for this story of family dynamics!
One of my favorite holiday season flashes despite the unhappy scenario—because it’s true to life with all the inherent snags and kerfuffles.
Ohhhhh, the piercing bitter cold hurt of estrangement!!!
Well captured. Painfully well remembered.