SIRRUS POE's publishing credits include Dusting Off Dreams, Echoes from the Silence, and Babel Magazine. He will have new work appearing in Thorms of Nature, an anthology edited by Doyle Wilmoth of Rogue Worlds magazine.
christmas at mother's
He turned eight the May before and was ready to see his brother and sister during the Christmas holidays. He knew things were not as they should be between him and his mother, but had hopes that this year things would begin to change. Things were bound to begin to get better; after all, he knew nothing about the truth of their stress to this point in his life. This was Christmas and a time to rejoice in seeing those that he missed; even his mother was included in that emotion.
He saw his siblings only twice a year and this was one of them and he planned on making it a good one. He prayed before leaving his dad back there alone in their home. He prayed of forgiveness for what his mother had done to him, or at least what he was able to gather from ease dropping in on adult conversations. He wanted God to know that he forgave her and wanted God to forgive her. He wanted a chance to become a mother and son again. He wished to become a part of their family. Why could he not have two families? She was his mother and mothers were supposed to love their children. He prayed for the strength to show that he could be a good kid just like his brother and sister. He promised to never do whatever it was that made her hate him when he was younger.
The time had come. The four of them sitting around the tree ready to open presents from one another before Santa came that night. His brother opened his present. It was a wonderful electronic game filled with hours of pure fun. His sister opened hers: a beautiful new Barbie and a car for her to drive around the room dreaming up fantasies. His mother grabbed his gift and handed it to him with a tooth filled grin.
Their time together seemed different this year. Somehow it seemed as God might of been listening and answered his prayers. He returned her smile, both mirror images of the other. He planned to cherish this because things were starting to turn around. The package was small in his hands, but great things come in small packages. He ripped the paper open thrilled that this was all happening now. He tore the brown paper bag wrapping, unlike his brother’s and sister’s shiny wrapping, in strips revealing his prize.
He looked at the present, fighting back the unwelcome tears urging him to cry. It was a faded paint by number picture of the Pink Panther doing a little dance and signed in a ragged hand by someone he never knew. He looked up at his mother and continued to smile. This was a start.
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© 2002 Sirrus Poe
