The Undisputed Queen of Christmas

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. What a terrible time to forget where she had parked her car, Liz thought as she looked around. The mall parking lot was as full as she had ever seen it, even for two days before Christmas.

           She was sure she’d gone in through Macy’s, but when she walked back out, her little green Mercury Topaz was not among the hundreds of lightly-dusted hulks in the lot. She was getting tired and was shifting her bags every few minutes. Then it hit her: she must have entered the mall on the other side of the complex.

           Damn. What a rookie mistake for the Undisputed Queen of Christmas to make. She really didn’t have time for this. Her breath puffed out in a frosty fog and the bunion on her right foot was beginning to complain. Bunions, it appeared, didn’t like the cold. She looked back at the concrete behemoth, its lights beckoning her. There were magic doors that opened when they saw you coming, and warm air, and maybe even a chair to rest in for a minute. She trudged in that direction.

           All around her, shoppers were scurrying to their cars, getting in, and heading to their comfortable homes, not noticing her at all. She needed to get to her home, too. There were pies to bake, one pumpkin and one pecan – with the nuts from the tree in their yard that they had picked up together -- and gifts to wrap. The kids would be coming in tomorrow for the holiday. As the Undisputed Queen of Christmas, she had certain responsibilities and obligations. The family was counting on her to make the holidays perfect. She really didn’t have time to wander around in a cold parking lot.

           After several arduous minutes she limped through the door that opened magically for her and gratefully stepped into the warm inside air. There were chairs, too, thank goodness, right here in the shoe department. Liz sank into the nearest one and decided if anyone approached her, she’d pretend she was going to buy a pair of shoes. She wasn’t really tired; she was thinking about shoes. She caught her breath through her chapped lips and noticed how terribly dry her mouth was. She set her bags down on the floor beside her and rummaged through her pocketbook for a peppermint.

           What time might it be? She’d headed to the car about 5 to have time to get home and start dinner and get the pies going. She looked around for a clock. My goodness! Six twenty! Paul would be worried. She was never this late. And the preparations were way behind schedule. The Undisputed Queen of Christmas’ crown was teetering a bit, as Paul had said that one year she had forgotten to buy eggnog.

           She huddled into herself, collecting her energy for the walk through the store and then out to her car, and in a few minutes, though she fought it, she fell into a light sleep, dreaming of the children’s faces as they put the finishing touches on the tree and what fun they’d have making gingerbread men and decorating sugar cookies. They made the biggest mess ever, but they had so much fun, she didn’t mind that her usually-impeccable kitchen got totally wrecked and she’d find colored sugar in odd places for weeks afterward. The Undisputed Queen of Christmas knew that the memories they were making were the important thing.

           Suddenly the sound of a commotion woke her, a rather large crowd of frantic people hurrying by. Some of them had papers in their hands and were handing them out to the shoppers. A man put one in her hand and kept going.

           My goodness, it was a picture of Grandma Lizzie! It said that Grandma Lizzie was missing at the mall.

Well, that did not make any sense at all. Liz’s grandma, whom she was named after, had died at 85 three years ago on Liz’s 37^th birthday. Why would anyone think she was at the mall?

It couldn’t be a joke. No one would make a joke about someone’s dead grandma, at least not so close to Christmas, with everybody being so busy with preparations.

Something weird was going on. She needed to set this straight. These people had made an awful mistake.

And if it was a joke, it certainly wasn’t funny.

           She reached out to touch the sleeve of a young woman who was walking by, to explain the mistake, to let them know Grandma Lizzie wasn’t at the mall; she was at the First Baptist Church cemetery down on Hollomon Street. She started to speak, and the woman looked at her and her eyes widened. Without giving Liz a chance to explain anything, she shouted, “I’ve got her! She’s here!”

           And then the pandemonium began. Everyone turned to her, exclaiming,  laughing, patting her, and asking if she was all right, telling her that she was safe now. The man who looked like the head guy was on the phone, cancelling the Silver Alert, whatever that was.

           She tried to explain that she couldn’t find her car, that she was late getting home, that she had pies to bake, one pumpkin and one pecan, and gifts to wrap. The kids would be there tomorrow.

           And then another lady was there, hugging her and exclaiming, crying, and apologizing.

Wait -- she knew this lady – what was her name? – Margie.

Margie from The Oaks.

           The Oaks Nursing Home.

           Where she lived.

           Where she had lived for a good long time now. Because the kids were grown and gone; the grandchildren had their own children and no one really needed her help to do Christmas anymore. They bought their pumpkin and pecan pies at the grocery. They would come and get her in the morning on Christmas Day, and they would have fun and sing some songs and take some pictures and eat grocery store pies and talk about how they didn’t compare to the ones she used to make, and they would be sure to get her back to the Home before dark.

The Undisputed Queen of Christmas had been retired.

So the picture was her, then. Did she really look like that? That old, wrinkled, slightly frail face was hers? The face she had thought so beautiful on her beloved grandmother was her face now? How did that happen? Had she been so busy making pies and raising children that she hadn’t realized how quickly the time was going?

It went too fast….

           She closed her mouth and then her eyes and let Margie put her in a wheelchair that one of the mall people brought and take her to the Day Out van for the trip back to The Oaks. Everyone on the bus was excited, happy, patting her and laughing for their happy ending. They hadn’t seen so much excitement since Henry Ledger dropped his false teeth right onto Miss Louise Baker’s smiling face as he dipped her at the Old Timers’ Sock Hop back in May.

           Liz slumped down in the wheelchair. She was suddenly very tired, maybe as tired as she’d ever been. It had been quite a day.

           Fine, then. She’d go back to The Oaks and get a good night’s rest. In the morning, she’d go home and bake the pies, one pumpkin and one pecan – with the nuts from the tree in their yard that they had picked up together -- and wrap the gifts.

The Undisputed Queen of Christmas had certain responsibilities and obligations. The family was counting on her to make the holidays perfect.