Christmas lights sparkle like champagne, ascending to the Angel atop the tree. Glow of family’s warmth pervades the room like a candle. Shine on, blind mother.
Mother places the final platter on the table with a smile and steps back to admire her work. She lifts her elbows as two of her grandchildren, chasing one another, careen past the crystal wine glasses, toppling one to the floor. Cursing her eldest son’s spawn she bends to retrieve the largest of the shards.
“Mother, let me help you,” says man.
Mother looks up at her son, wondering where he achieved his height. If only he would cut his hair.
“Thank you,” mother says.
Man bends to help her.
“When will you get married and have children like your brother?” mother asks him quietly.
Man smiles. “I’m too busy for that,” he says.
From the kitchen doorway comes a grating whisper.
“Mother, he’s coming,” warns brother.
“Then get your children in order!” mother accuses.
Man stands to face his father.
“Lovely,” says mother, glowing. “Let’s eat.”
For part twelve, click here.