I had nowhere to go this year as the celebrations began picking up. The local HEB was closed, so I couldn’t even go shopping. I needed milk for my coffee. It’s Texas here so it wasn’t cold out, just desolate and lonely. Well, for me. I can only speak for myself and my two cats. They were very happy to have me home. I forgot to give them their present. Dang, just remembered this. It can be a Valentine’s Day gift.
A lot of endings this year. A lot of new beginnings next year that many of us are afraid of. A lot.
The cats, however, are living their best lives. My daughter said, “They hit the pet-owner lottery.” I do love cats. I can tell you the most influential cats in my life back to Raja, my sister’s Burmese, my first cat memory. The first cat. Then, Peter, my first Burmese, stayed and supported me for nearly eighteen years until my wife accidentally warmed up the laundry with him inside. I have not cried harder in my life. I buried him in the backyard that afternoon. The marriage struggled but didn’t ultimately work out.
I worried about being alone on Christmas. I got over it. My previous partner was nearby, almost three years. Obviously that would be a terrible idea. So, I stayed put. Wrote. Wrestled with cats.
I’m hoping, maybe, in the new year, to find a human woman to wrestle with, but the journey there looks long, complicated, and… Well, I’m not going to use the word hopeless. I’m also learning to be patient. My mom used to always say, “You’ve just got to learn to be patient.” She was right. I’m still working on it. She’s the one who gave me writing. Books. A love of bookstores. The smell of a newly printed paperback cracked open on my lap. Happy place. All that waiting as a kid. All we had back then were comic books, books, and pencil and paper, crayons if I was well-prepared. Those hair appointments in East Austin took forever.
She’s moved along. Was ready to go, actually. “If the lord would just take me,” she said for the last few years when we were together during the holidays. “You need more ribbons on your presents,” she also said. “They need to be more cheery.”
My mom was into cheery. Inside perhaps things were not as hopeful, but on the outside there needed to be lights, decorations, and lots of ribbons and bows on the presents under my sister’s tree. We started doing celebrations over there after she got divorced. We recreated the big celebration, big tree, big turkey, big pumpkin pie. I was lucky. My birthday fell right around Thanksgiving each year, and I would get to take the leftover pumpkin pie home. And if you’d ever tasted my mom’s pumpkin pie, you’d understand my joy.
This year, no celebration on the eve or the day, but on Saturday my twenty-two year old daughter did the pie. She’s taking over the tradition. She’d wanted to do eve and day with her best friend’s family. “Of course. We’re getting together on Saturday, since the twins aren’t coming home.” Imagine that, your twenty-something kids not coming home for Christmas. Mine were both here, just elsewhere.
The cats read books with me, watched some shows, did some laundry. “Careful about that open dryer.”
In my own mind it was the most peaceful and quiet Christmas I can remember. We’d quit exchanging gifts long ago. On Saturday my daughter’s pie was amazing. My son, stayed in his sober house, a bit moody for a family gathering. Or a text. We played Mexican Train (dominos) for an hour. My sister’s boyfriend tells odd stories about being a cop in Dallas. That’s where my son is hoping to complete his college degree on his third attempt.
“All is well.”
It’s the greeting we send back and forth when nothing is well. Nothing is moving with the speed or direction I would prefer. So, we drop back to AA and Al-Anon slogans for comfort. It is in this quiet time I can really feel both my loneliness and my inner peace. A joy from my own actions, my own efforts, my own self-soothing.
I am alone. I am happy. I may not see the people I love at the moment, but I imagine they are safe. Perhaps not laughing, but safe. “On their own path,” I would say to myself. I suppose that’s the message this year. On my own. Well, except for Sid and Hunter on my lap purring.
Read more Short-Short Stories from John.
