The Plate Spinner Chronicles by Barbara Valentin

Author:Barbara Valentin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2015-09-10T23:00:00+00:00

~ A Cautionary Carol ~

My Mom is no ghost, but as Christmas approaches, the sheer volume of homemade cookies and gifts that she used to produce when she was in her plate-spinning prime haunts me. Even Martha Stewart couldn't hold her spatula.

All this while working full-time and raising five kids—without a microwave. Those are some mighty big pumps to fill.

With a few minutes to spare between one son's piano lesson and another son's dental appointment, I popped in recently for a quick visit. A familiar scent greeted me at the door. Turns out, she was spending the day making her traditional, labor-intensive date nut bread. It wouldn't be Christmas without it.

Guilt started wrapping around me like a heavy chain. I didn't dare tell her about how I came this close to leaving out store-bought cookies for Santa the year before.

Instead, I announced that one of my boys signed me up to make treats for a class party the next day.

"Like I don't have enough to do," I fumed.

She noted my stress. "You'd better slow down or you're going to miss it."

"Miss what?" I mumbled, shoving a hunk of the warm bread in my mouth.

"Christmas."

I smirked at her. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I'm actually looking forward to it being over."

I ignored her gasp, grabbed the date nut bread she had set aside for me, kissed her good-bye and headed out the door.

That night, I was visited by three bad dreams. Either that, or I was paying the price for not sharing that loaf of date nut bread with my kids.

In the first dream, I watched as a much younger version of myself sat in my mom's lap in a chair in our living room. Christmas carols were coming out of our hi-fi and we were both admiring the twinkling lights on the tree. I marveled at the peaceful stillness. No hustle. No bustle. Just enjoying the moment.

From there, I was whisked into a troubling scene. I saw myself burst into our kitchen after a long day at the office and brusquely explain to my sweet-natured, hopeful son why we absolutely could not make the brownies he was hoping to bring to his class party because I was too tired and still had so many things to do before I could go to bed.

My heart broke as I took in the expression on his face. How could I be so selfish?

But it got better. When my older son joined us and offered to make the brownies for me while I relaxed, I turned on him. I grabbed the box, cranked on the oven, pulled out a mixing bowl, and ordered them both out of the kitchen.

That's when the real nightmare started. The lights in the kitchen went out and I was utterly alone. Not the kind of alone I typically long for. The kind of alone that there's no coming back from.

I woke up with a start. The house was still quiet and dark, but far from empty. Relieved, I headed downstairs to bake some brownies.

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