Merry Christmas one and all. I have just a few minutes before the craziness starts so I figured I would set the timer and do a writing prompt for the day. Then I will be roasting a goose (with frequent removal of drippings), mashing potatoes and several other dinner related things so a moment of calm before the storm is appreciated. If you need your moment of calm, feel free to join in. Timers set? Then off we go.
Well that was interesting. I’m not entirely certain where that came from, but perhaps when we were flipping channels last night I saw an advertisement for the Hoarders show. either way, there we have it. And now I am off to the kitchen and eventually a small feast. Before I go I’ll post next week’s prompts. Then, I’ll be back bright and early Monday morning. Happy Christmas everyone!
Friday, December 25th: This is exactly what I pictured.
This is exactly what I pictured. I hoped I was wrong, but I knew in my heart of hearts that my mental image would prove accurate. I stood in the doorway and surveyed the interior of what had once been a home I knew so well.
Now, if I looked at the ceiling and allowed my eyes to trace the lines of the room openings and the see the familiar light fixtures I could tell it was the same hose, however when looked at straight on, it was unrecognizable.
I knew my mother had a shopping problem. We all knew my mother had a shopping problem. Even she knew it. When we went to pick out school clothing it was never to pick out a pair of pants or a pair of shoes. We had to get them in every available color for her to consider it a successful trip.
When my father was still alive, he maintained a strict budget. The money they both earned went into an account and he made certain the bills were all paid. He then told her what amount she could spend on anything she wanted. And she did. Each month she spent every penny.
She was happy with the system and a general order was maintained. When he died, my mother turned to me. She told me how much she wanted to be able to spend on whatever she wanted each month and if it was a possibility I was to let her. I was also to make sure that the bills were paid and that there was always enough money in the accounts before she went shopping.
She didn’t trust herself.
Remembering the long ago school shopping, and a promise to my father to look out for her, I agreed. The system worked well and she seemed happy. Realistically I knew that all the things she bought had to go somewhere. The rational part of my mind merely assumed that when she picked up new, the new replaced the old and the old was removed.
It wasn’t until a few months ago when I realized that Mom always met me out somewhere for lunch or dinner, or came to my house that I suspected there might be a problem. When asked she assured me that everything was fine and that the restaurants and stores she liked were simply closer to my side of town than hers.
Then came the accident.
She and several others were crossing the street in a crosswalk when someone blazed through the intersection. Her mother and three others were injured. The driver, who failed to stop because he was in the grip of a massive coronary died at the scene. Her mother managed to last about two more hours before passing away. One of the others had only a few broken bones but the other two were still in ICU. And now I had to find an outfit to take to the funeral home. I surveyed the mounds of accumulated belongings and the narrow maze of pathways before me and wondered where on earth I should start looking.
Ten til Midnight 