homesick blues [dated to 12/10]
Dec. 7th, 2015 06:26 pmI've always loved Christmas. It never really got all that cold down in Georgia and it was a miracle if we ever even got snow, but there was always something magical about the holiday seasons with all the Christmas trees around and the decorations on the streets and in the malls and classrooms. Everyone always seemed in a slightly better mood, too. For the most part, at least.
And Christmas Day itself, well... Mama and I would spend weeks planning the dinner and dessert menus and hours decorating the dining room, making sure every place setting was just perfect. More than once, a present I'd received earlier in the day could be used in helping prepare food later that day and we'd put on Mama's favorite old Christmas albums, all the ones with Bing Crosby and Elvis Presley and sing and dance around all day.
Of course, sometimes things got stressful and we definitely had more than a couple arguments, but it's not those I ever remember so much. Especially not now.
It's been over four months now since I got here and even with all the wonderful people I've met, even with Derek and Thomas and Simon and Neil, I'd still give almost anything to go back. I actually can't think of a single thing I wouldn't give right now just to see my Mama again. Or hear her laugh. She embarrassed the dickens out of me sometimes, but she always meant well and she was my very favorite person to bake with.
And I still haven't gotten used to the idea that I may never see her again. To be honest, I don't really want to.
Usually, working at Semele's is good for distraction. It's always so busy and loud and exciting with the bartenders calling out food orders and Derek rushing in and back out again, replenishing the stock and making sure everything's running smoothly.
But it's like every little thing is reminding me of home these, whether it be the kinds of pies people are special ordering or the drinks they're requesting at the bar or the plans they're all making with their families. Derek's jukebox played Mama's very favorite Christmas song this evening and it took every bit of willpower I had not to run into the bathroom in tears.
It's late and so, so cold by the time I'm ready to leave work and I don't even think before pulling out my phone, scanning through my contacts. I hover over Blue's name, debating for a second. We're maybe not best best friends, but she's always been so nice and she's a fellow Southerner and she lives in the same building. There's every possibility she's either not home or asleep, but she responds to the text I send almost immediately and I make sure to grab a few slices of the pecan pie we hadn't managed to sell tonight before heading over.
I have my emotions mostly in check by the time I reach her door and I knock softly just in case she's managed to fall asleep in the time it's taken me to get here.
And Christmas Day itself, well... Mama and I would spend weeks planning the dinner and dessert menus and hours decorating the dining room, making sure every place setting was just perfect. More than once, a present I'd received earlier in the day could be used in helping prepare food later that day and we'd put on Mama's favorite old Christmas albums, all the ones with Bing Crosby and Elvis Presley and sing and dance around all day.
Of course, sometimes things got stressful and we definitely had more than a couple arguments, but it's not those I ever remember so much. Especially not now.
It's been over four months now since I got here and even with all the wonderful people I've met, even with Derek and Thomas and Simon and Neil, I'd still give almost anything to go back. I actually can't think of a single thing I wouldn't give right now just to see my Mama again. Or hear her laugh. She embarrassed the dickens out of me sometimes, but she always meant well and she was my very favorite person to bake with.
And I still haven't gotten used to the idea that I may never see her again. To be honest, I don't really want to.
Usually, working at Semele's is good for distraction. It's always so busy and loud and exciting with the bartenders calling out food orders and Derek rushing in and back out again, replenishing the stock and making sure everything's running smoothly.
But it's like every little thing is reminding me of home these, whether it be the kinds of pies people are special ordering or the drinks they're requesting at the bar or the plans they're all making with their families. Derek's jukebox played Mama's very favorite Christmas song this evening and it took every bit of willpower I had not to run into the bathroom in tears.
It's late and so, so cold by the time I'm ready to leave work and I don't even think before pulling out my phone, scanning through my contacts. I hover over Blue's name, debating for a second. We're maybe not best best friends, but she's always been so nice and she's a fellow Southerner and she lives in the same building. There's every possibility she's either not home or asleep, but she responds to the text I send almost immediately and I make sure to grab a few slices of the pecan pie we hadn't managed to sell tonight before heading over.
I have my emotions mostly in check by the time I reach her door and I knock softly just in case she's managed to fall asleep in the time it's taken me to get here.
