Lemon Lavender Is Not Fine by Elle Pallmore

Author:Elle Pallmore [Pallmore, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elle Pallmore
Published: 2019-06-13T05:00:00+00:00

eighteen

WHEN I WALK IN THE door that day, I’m greeted by Christmas music blaring throughout the house.

Which is clean. Really clean.

With her newfound energy, my mother has scoured the kitchen to a sparkle, tackled the overflowing mail pile, and reorganized the pantry and cupboards so the contents fit together like Tetris blocks. I’m not surprised when I find her in her bedroom, grunting as she flips the mattress.

Instead of hello, how was your day, she says, “I was thinking of hanging Christmas decorations tonight. I could use your help bringing up boxes from the basement.”

I sit in her reading chair, resting my head on my knee as she floats a clean sheet over the bed.

“Lemon? The boxes?” she repeats.

I raise my head. “When?”

She unfolds a pillowcase. “How about now?”

My jaw tightens. It’s a big deal for her to be so motivated, and I don’t want to ruin it, but still. Her tone isn’t really a request, so I say, “Yeah, sure.”

After she finishes the bed, we head to the basement and stand before the stacks of boxes, which are so old, they’re puckered at the corners. Mom had the flu last year, so Meg and I haphazardly packed up the decorations, leaving boxes on the ground and some on the shelves. Many of the lids barely close because we shoved stuff here and there, just to get it over with.

Mom touches a water-dimpled box flap and rubs her fingers together against the grime. “Well, this is a disaster, isn’t it?” Instead of looking frustrated, she smiles. “Let’s bring them all upstairs.”

We haul the boxes to the family room, then each lift an end of the fake Christmas tree from its storage bag. After we unpack the branches, Mom assembles it in front of the family room window by clicking the pieces into place.

“There,” she says. “One thing done.”

You would think the next logical step would be to decorate the tree, but that doesn’t happen.

“I think we need to organize everything first,” Mom decides, whirling her hands above our new mess. She plunks down on an empty patch of carpet, and we scoop out the contents of each box, stacking ornaments in one pile, twinkle lights in another. We toss the cardboard into another heap for recycling.

We don’t stop until after six, when Mom looks at the clock and jumps up, shouting, “Dinner!” She does a hop-leap-lunge combination to get out of the family room, since there isn’t a scrap of carpet left to walk on.

“What should we do with all . . . this?” I ask, referring to the Christmas bomb that’s exploded.

“Leave it,” she replies, unconcerned. “We can work on it tomorrow when you get home.”

“Can’t wait,” I say to myself.

I pick up a reindeer ornament I made from a Popsicle stick in kindergarten. The glued googly eyes whir in their plastic bubbles when I shake it. Even they won’t stop staring at me.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.