I only heard static thunder through my earmuffs as the world around me celebrated another year of the tinniest success stories. Another year of the mankind’s stalemate and the complacency that snuffs out even the most meaningful lives. Celebration was the only response the world could conceive. It probably should have been snowing but it was raining instead. Since my earmuffs blocked out any meaning from the conversation, I delegated my own translation.
She stared off into the fireplace with the most earnest desire to please. “I hope you all like your gifts. I’ve been shopping for months and I think I finally found the perfect ones.”
“I’m sure they’ll be just great, Dear,” said the husband to his wife, meaning to ease her anticipation. The scent of pine candles made the air heavy and sleepy, but no one said a word about it.
“Mom, I hope you got me that new video game. I really wanted that video game. You know which one I’m talking about, right? The one with all the latest graphics and the coolest sound effects. That’s the one I wanted. I told you six months ago to the day, so I assumed you would remember.” With the utmost sincerity, the young man burned into his mother’s eyes with unwavering determination. He really did want that game.
She hadn’t bought it. Not yet.
The Christmas tree was on fire. I would have done something to stop it, but I liked the way it looked as it spread to the snow outside. No one else noticed so I assumed it had been intentional. People these days will do anything to achieve best in show. The world is a dog show.
“I hope the ham comes out alright. I mean, I had no idea what I was doing. The thermometer said that it was 82 degrees, but I just don’t want it to be undercooked. Maybe I should leave it in for another hour. You know, just in case.” She looked to her husband for reassurance, but he had been drifting. He would like to play that video game, too.
“Mmmmph,” he replied, more in question than response. His wife took this as agreement, however, and sunk back into her leather recliner. She would rather the ham be burned to a crisp then give her family food poisoning. That simply couldn't happen on Christmas. Not again.
Paying no attention to his mother’s insecurity, the boy chuckled along to the latest episode of some controversial, grotesque cartoon. “Mom! Did you hear that?! He’s leaving his wife for a bisexual octopus! Dad! Dad! Would you leave Mom for a bisexual octopus?”
“Mmmmph,” was the reply, “Only if it had nice legs.” He laughed at his own cleverness and continued thinking about the video game his son would probably receive.
At that, a shrill whine cut the thickness of the candle air and smoke filled in the cracks. There would be no food poisoning this year. Of course, there would be no ham either.
I closed the curtain on this scene and made my way to the next house. These families were all my own, so there was no guilt in stealing a few moments of their holidays for myself. I knew no one, but all families are the same. I never did enjoy spending the holidays alone.