These Broken Roads

Chapter 13: Christmas Traditions

~Elliot~

I dug around in the attic cursing under my breath. I really wanted to find Mom's Christmas ornaments to put on the little Christmas tree we have in the living room.

After going through the last box I sighed and wiped the sweat off my forehead. It was cold in the attic, but I was sweating.

I went down the stairs and closed the door. There was only one more place to look.

I headed downstairs and to the back door. Nearly slipping on some ice, I headed over to the pool house. Mom sometimes kept some seasonal things there so it was easier to get to. Especially when she got sick she needed easier access to the Christmas ornaments.

I opened the door and was welcome by the light smell of chlorine. I headed to the back walk-in closet and flicked on the light. I smiled when I saw the cardboard box labeled Christmas ornaments.

I carried the box out of the closet to set it down on the table. I then returned to shut off the light when a photo album caught my eye. I grabbed it and thumbed through it. I decided to take it with me as I flicked off the light and then headed to where I set the ornaments box down.

I, very carefully, carried it from the pool house to the backdoor, making sure not to slip on the ice again. I opened the door and then closed it with my foot. I walked into the living room and set the box down.

I sat down on the couch and opened the photo album. It looked like a holiday one. First few pages were of my mom and dad decorating gingerbread houses. They looked so young. Dad has said that Mom and him were high school sweethearts.

Next page was my first Christmas. I smiled when I saw the picture of my mom and I together. It was a close up of our faces, right next to each other. I always loved that she gave me her eyes. When I looked in the mirror it was like she was looking back at me.

The next few pages were of all different things. Lots of pictures of me surrounded by Christmas presents. Little four year old me holding up my first baseball, with a huge smile on my face, and Dad sitting next to me holding up two baseball gloves.

The next page was Quinn's first Christmas. Mom had dressed us all in matching pajamas. I looked grumpy, Dad looked exhausted, mom looked irritated, and Quinn was the only one smiling widely at the camera. I chuckled at myself.

The next picture was a lot better. We were all still in our matching pajamas, but I was sitting on the floor opening presents, Dad was sitting in his armchair watching me, and Mom was sitting with Quinn on her lap. We all looked so happy.

I paged through the rest of the pictures. I paused when I noticed what year this one was. The first year Mom had found out about the cancer. She sat on the couch, still with a smile on her face, but she had no hair. She had a pink fluffy robe wrapped around her. I remember how she used to be cold all the time. Her hugs didn't feel right either, she wasn't soft and warm anymore, she was more boney and cold.

I sighed and blinked back tears. I paged through again. I smiled as I noticed her hair growing back with each picture. I swallowed hard knowing it wasn't going to last long.

One of the last pages was a picture of Dad, me, when I was fifteen, and Quinn was ten or eleven I think. Mom was laying down on the couch, but still had a smile on her face. I always remember that. She sat with her pink robe and a heavy blanket on her. She looked bad, dark circles under her eyes, paleness in her skin was easy to see even in the picture. She also looked skinny with her sunken cheekbones.

I swallowed as I turned the page but, I knew, there was no more. That was the last Christmas with Mom.

I ran over the last few empty pages of the photo album and closed it with a sigh. I set it on the coffee table and moved to the ornaments.