Mom had done a good job decorating the house. It looked like it always did on Christmas, decorated tastefully with mostly red, white and greens. A few decorative Santa Clauses and reindeers occupied their usual positions. It reminded me of all the previous Christmases in that house, all the way back to when my dad had still been alive.
I was still eating my sandwich from a plate, inspecting the pine tree when Mom walked in, wearing her bathrobe.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
“Good morning,” I replied.
Mom yawned and shambled over to the kitchen, sitting down on one of the stools in front of the free standing kitchen counter. I walked over and poured her some orange juice.
“Thanks honey,” Mom said, smiling at me.
“So… What’s the plan today? Everyone is coming over later right?” I asked.
“Well, I have to prepare some of the food,” she said and looked outside,” and I think someone needs to plow the driveway. We’ll need space for one more car on the side of the road as well.”
“I can do that. I’ll plow the shit out of that snow,” I answered, jokingly. Mom giggled at me.
“I’m so lucky I’ve got such a strong man here to help me,” Mom retorted with an overly dramatic sigh.
“And don’t you forget it,” I said, winking at her.
We both fell into a bout of laughter at our silliness. That was what I liked most about my relationship with Mom, that we could joke and tease each other like that.
“Oh, and could you check the mailbox? I’m not dressed to be outside yet,” Mom added.
“Sure thing.”
I finished my breakfast and cleaned up after myself, glad to have access to a dishwasher again after staying at my small apartment in the city. I threw on my jacket and braved the thick layer of snow to get to the mailbox.
Strangely, someone had stuffed snow into the mailbox and I had to dig to get to its contents. I dug out the rest of the snow, wishing I had brought gloves, and tried to shake off the worst of it from the bundle of mail. I walked back inside, irritated at the dumb prank.
“Here,” I said and handed Mom the slightly soggy mail. “Some kids must have stuffed the mailbox with snow.”
“Snow?”
“Yeah, it was full of it, and the mail was shoved into the middle of it.”
“Probably that old crone again,” Mom muttered.
“Margret? Are you guys still fighting?” Margret and her husband lived in the house next to ours. She was about Mom’s age and frankly not bad looking, though Mom was easily the prettier of the two of them.
“Only because she keeps fucking with me.” The subject always seemed to make Mom uncharacteristically angry.
“Right… well, I’ll get started with the plowing in a moment then,” I said, changing the subject.
I didn’t know exactly when or why their “feud” had begun, but it had dragged on for quite some time now. It would probably be better to avoid the subject.
I was going to leave but caught myself stopping to look at her cleavage instead while she was busy looking through the mail. Her robe was surprisingly loosely tied, revealing much of her impressive bosom. I tore my eyes away just as she noticed me standing there and looked up at me. I walked into my room before she could ask if I wanted anything.
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