24th of December:
My mother called tonight from the all inclusive resort she and my
sister are staying at in Mexico; a first for my family leaving the
country. She informed me she was completely drunk and quickly
handed the phone off to my sober sister. My sister then informed
me that the plane had gotten in at 6, They slept for two hours and
after that my mom had hit the free bar shortly after breakfast.
From there they had purchased a calling card and the past
45 minutes was them struggling with all the dialing. My sister
then informed me it was a laundry card and had nothing
to do with phones. Their heads combined could not have figured
this out. My mother quickly learched back onto the phone and
mixed slurs of Christmas wishes and drink knowledge. I stood
there with the phone in my shoulder kneading pie dough, reiterating
what she had said for clarification forgetting that roommates were
near. I finally just told her happy holidays and hung up. I stood in
the kitchen making pie, then started sharing drunken mother stories
with M to remind me of this family joy-ish time of year.
The clock hit 12 and in French tradition you open your presents then.
I received 2 corkscrews and a hidden bottle of wine from a Secret Santa,
making my bath soaps look like shit in comparison. I sort of felt weird.
This ongoing theme of being related to alcoholism felt tiresome. I didn’t
feel the need to take a radical jump and claim edge (again) in order to
change views, but it seemed this was in the middle of the scale,
somewhere between romantic and depressing.