CHAPTER 4: The Weight She Never Shared
Three days before Christmas, Daniel opened the basement storage room.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling.
Each Christmas decoration sat inside carefully labeled boxes.
Living Room Tree.
Dining Room Garland.
Guest Bathroom Towels.
Outdoor Lights.
Nativity Set.
Extension Cords.
Replacement Bulbs.
Extra Batteries.
Emergency Tape.
Gift Wrap.
Everything had a place.
Emily stared.
"I had no idea."
Daniel whispered,
"Neither did I."
They spent six exhausting hours decorating.
Margaret usually finished everything in one afternoon.
When Daniel finally collapsed onto the couch, he laughed bitterly.
"I used to think Mom just liked decorating."
Emily looked around the house.
"No."
"She worked."
That evening, Daniel found an old notebook tucked beside the decorations.
Christmas Planner.
Year after year.
Every meal.
Every grocery receipt.
Every seating chart.
Every allergy.
Every birthday.
Every favorite dessert.
Next to Uncle Frank's name was written:
No walnuts.
Beside Lily:
Extra marshmallows.
Beside Emily's father:
Diabetic pie.
Daniel swallowed hard.
Thirty-one years.
His mother had remembered everyone's needs.
Nobody had remembered hers.
At the cottage, Margaret walked along the frozen shoreline with a cup of hot chocolate.
Children laughed nearby while building snowmen.
A little girl waved.
"Merry Christmas!"
Margaret waved back.
"Merry Christmas."
She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a walk during Christmas week.
She had always been too busy.
May you like
She suddenly wondered...
How many Decembers had she missed while standing in her own kitchen?
