The Lonely Christmas Birthday.

Erin stood at the empty front door and gazed at the dimly lit porch swing. In a wave of memories, her sister's smiling faces gazed at her while they gently pushed the swing back and forth. If she closed her eyes she could still hear them laughing. Everyone gathered together, on the front porch of all places, to play a game of spoons. Her sisters, Jean and Leigh, were relentless. She could feel a phantom ache in her right hand from trying to pull that stupid metal spoon out of one of their hands. A chilly gust of wind brought her back to the present. She grabbed her long braided hair and swung it over her shoulder. She was the only one blessed with thick golden hair. The size of her braid was almost the same size as her waist. Thick hair was a blessing in the winter but during the summer it was a menace. Her two other sisters had thin hair and they all were different colors. So different she wondered if they were all blood at one point. She had blonde hair, her older sister had strawberry blonde, and her younger sister had mousy brown hair. She did have two additional sisters, Kay and Estelle, but they are both gone. Cancer ran rampant in the family and claimed those two at a young age.

It was three days after Christmas. It was her birthday, she was turning 48 this year, and she was alone. With Daddy and Momma both gone there was no one here at her childhood home. She had no idea how she became the caretaker of the house but here she was, digging the keys out of her front jean pocket, preparing the house to be sold. It took her awhile to find the right key but she was able to get the door open and scurry inside before the brutal wind of December froze her straight through to her bones. As the warm air of the heater enveloped her like a blanket she sighed in relief. This was the last time she would be walking in this house. The last time she would be tripping over that stupid corner of tile in the front hallway that was raised up too far. She set down her bag and took a steadying breath. It took but a moment to steel herself for the job at hand. Before Dad got too sick he bought another house around the corner stating he needed his own space. Grief is funny like that sometimes. It makes you push everyone away when you really need your friends and family to stick close. When Dad died she moved into the second house and decided to sell this one. It was too big for her. It had four spacious bedrooms. Too many for her to ever use now. She wasn't going to use the formal dining room. She didn't need two bathrooms. This house served its purpose for this family. This house sheltered this family as we lived and grew, and now it was time to let it have life again with a whole new adventure.

Dad left instructions before he died, he told her to do what she thought was right with the money. He gave her the entire bank account and took her older sister off of it. Maybe he thought it was payment for staying with him until the end. Who really knows. So she kept the account and didn't give her two sisters any of the money. Her sisters wanted to split the money three ways but Dad told her to do what she wanted with it. What she thought was best. She kept all of it knowing what she was going to lose when she did. She doesn't speak to her sisters anymore. It was their choice to shut her out. When she didn't divvy up the money equally her relationship with them fractured and her decision to keep what Dad left her cleaved the relationship with her sisters in two.

Here it is several months after the sundering and at the end of the year. The events of the past year have burned bright and then yielded to the dark. As fast as a lightbulb burning out. That bright flash as it sparks the last of its energy. The slight fizz that emits with the energy being released. Just like that it is over. As she checks every room and closes every door in the house she is also closing the door to her old life. She has been taking care of her dying Daddy for so long that she doesn't even know what to do with herself now that he is gone. His funeral was beautiful and simple. She did her best with the arrangements. His time in the Navy qualified him for a military burial. When the flag was passed over to her she attempted to keep her tears from falling but her relief at his passing and her grief that he was gone made it impossible. Relief and grief is such an oxymoronic way to feel. She couldn't stick around to see him lowered in the ground.

With everything in order at her childhood home she shut the heater off and went to stand back out on the front porch. She stood there staring at the empty door for several minutes. With the final door closed she turned the lock and called up all her memories. Every single one of her family. All the good. All the bad. She transferred all of it into the house. Her hands being the conduit she leaves every single one that she doesn't want to remember in those panel covered walls. Those memories can stay. She won't need them where she is going. She is headed forward with her life. It's a new beginning. A new way of life where she is rich and worry free. The very last thing she does before she leaves is offer thanks and a goodbye.