poison
What was it, you and those gifts?
Years would go by without a card, and then, out of nowhere, I'd get a gift: birthday, or Christmas, or something in the middle of nothing.
I remember the almond bath milk - I nearly opened it before Nicky grabbed them out of my hand. At Christmas that year, walnut and avocado face cream. He read the ingredients to me, shock on his face. I listened, heart hurting.
Always lethal, those presents, targeting my allergies. Why, Mom? If anyone should have known the ingredients to kill me with, it should have been you.
Her
After your mother died, your step-father ran home to his mother. She sold her house, renting a bigger place for you. She chased away your nightmares--nursed your illnesses--bandaged your scrapes--kissed away your tears. She mothered you, even though she'd mothered six of her own--alone--and you were no kin to her. The only home you ever had was hers. Your people forgot you.
You're a big shot now. I begrudge you nothing. She opens that bar of drug store soap and thanks you for remembering her. I look at it, knowing you don't remember a thing.
(word count: 100)
Wow...both of you. Still thinking about mine.
Too many from which to choose?
I took the coward's route, and went with someone else's story. It's a true story though, and there's much more going on than what is in those 100 words. It's part of one of my someday-this-will-be-a-series series of books.
Christmas:
Christmas at my husband’s grandparents was always a little awkward. My father in law was deferential in all things to both his parents. My mother-in-law was on eggshells as usual. A queer, fake smile plastered on her face.
My mother-in-law always opened her gift last. She usually only had one but smiled and politely unwrapped whatever they handed to her.
The brownish lump was vaguely squirrel shaped. The package said "Zoo Doo.” My mother-in-law continued smiling and said, "Thank you, June. It will be perfect for my garden."
Only, she didn't keep a garden. When I had time to take a closer look, I examined the package--the local zoo had created these packages as a fundraising project. Collecting dried dung from the animals and shaping them into other animals to sell as gag gifts.
I couldn't believe my mother-in-law's mother-in-law gave her shit for Christmas.
Oh my. True story or did you just let your imagination take off on the topic?
True story, sadly. Whenever I worry about my MiL, I think of what she's had to deal with for 35 years.
