I wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming holiday. I had absolutely no money. This would be the first Christmas in twenty‑three years that I couldn’t provide gifts for my children. It gutted me. Every year, no matter how tight things were, I’d always managed to pull together a good Christmas — presents, a nice meal, time together as a family. But this year, after everything that had happened, I was in a hole I couldn’t climb out of. Financially. Mentally. All of it.
I kept trying to think of a solution. I had enough food to make a decent meal, but there would be nothing under the tree. While I was staring at the pantry, I noticed a new bottle of orange soda — Rowan’s favorite. It gave me an idea. I dug around for anything else I could wrap. I ended up with the soda, a pack of Ramen, and a package of cookies. That was all I had, so I wrapped them in Christmas paper.
Then I went outside and snapped a branch off the pine tree in the yard. I stuck it in a vase in the corner and arranged the gifts around it. It was pathetic, but it was the best I could do.
When Rowan arrived, he was thrilled. Santa hadn’t forgotten him. He didn’t even notice the branch — just the packages. My older kids knew the situation and weren’t expecting anything. They’d be fine. Rowan tore into his gifts and was overjoyed. He carried them into the kitchen and asked me to make him lunch. Ramen and orange soda. Problem solved, at least in his eyes. I felt awful that it was all I could give, but he was happy, and that was all that mattered.
The next day I went back to DoorDashing, trying to make enough money for food and the small things we needed. It didn’t work. I barely made enough to replace the gas I’d used. Rowan went back to the group home, and I was alone again.
My car had been acting up — a flashing check engine light and a handful of other issues I couldn’t afford to fix. I prayed it would hold together long enough for me to figure something out. Everything felt overwhelming. My mind just… quit. I crawled into bed, pulled the blankets over my head, and checked out. I spent the next three days hiding from the monsters I was sure were waiting for me outside my door. I just couldn’t take any more.
Eventually, I had to go back to work, so I dragged myself out of bed and rejoined the living. This was one Christmas I wanted to forget. One more week and I could put the whole mess behind me. Just one more. I kept hoping I could outrun karma a little longer.
Still running,
K.
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