Quote of the Day

He opens boxes and begins to build something. It is strange. He plays music on his eye-pod that makes me feel uncomfortable … young, childish.
"It‘s a tree, Mac. You and Alina put one up every year. I couldn't get a live one. We‘re in a Dark Zone. Do you remember Dark Zones?"
I shake my head. 
"You named them."
I shake my head.  
"How about December twenty-fifth? Do you know what day that is?"  
I shake my head.  
"It‘s today." 
He hands me a book. There are pictures in it of a fat man in red clothing, of stars and cradles, of trees with shiny pretty things on the branches.  It all seems quite stupid to me.  He hands me the first of many boxes. In them are shiny, pretty things. I get the point. I roll my eyes. My stomach is full and I would rather have sex.  He refuses to comply. We have one of our spats. He wins because he has what I want and can withhold it.  We decorate the tree while happy, idiotic songs play.

When we are finished, he does something that makes a million tiny bright lights glow red and pink and green and blue, and I lose my breath like someone has kicked me in the stomach. I drop to my knees.  I sit cross-legged on the floor and stare at the tree for a long time. I get more new words. They come slowly, but they come.  Christmas.  Presents.  Mom.  Dad.   Home. School. Brickyard. Cell phone. Pool. Trinity. Dublin.  One word disturbs me more than all the rest of them combined. Sister.

~~Karen Marie Moning 


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