Christmas Kleenex
(89 votes, average: 2.52 out of 5)
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by Jennifer Woodall
A week before Christmas, and my baby sister’s rehearsal dinner is an hour away! I frantically waltz into the guest bathroom at my grandfather’s house, and throw down my make up. “This just about settles it.” I say impatiently with a sigh, “I am out of black eye liner.” I frantically start opening drawers, like I am going to find something, and I see it… it stares at me, and tears start to well up in my eyes.
My grandmother’s make up. Just laying there like she used it yesterday. In 11 days, she will be gone 2 years, and this array of beauty products is staring at me like she was just in the bathroom. Pause. I pick up a tissue from the drawer that has her signature “hooker pink” lipstick on it, in perfect kisses. I can’t help but wonder what she was thinking the last time she blotted her lipstick. Was she out running her errands? Was she getting ready for church? I just stare in reverie at the lips, and kiss them ever so softly, as to not damage the tissue. “ I love you Nanny…” I whisper, the tears stream and create a small delta at the corner of my mouth, before they travel to the sea pooling at the crape of my neck. The drawer releases smells my nose has not smelt in a long time. Cornsilk powder, Estee Lauder, her hair spray… It’s like she is talking to me, and coming to visit as I dress for my special holiday. The cabinet, I think. I open it. Her hairpieces she wore when she had breast cancer, because she wanted to look as beautiful as the day she was diagnosed. An ancient hot water bottle, I can remember healing so many boo-boos when I was a child. I hold it in my hands and wonder if this water bottle can heal the giant boo-boo in my heart. “She’s not here!” I say with anger, “WHY? Why have I found this?” Just being in this house brings back so many memories I cannot cope with. I feel a breeze, and on it her laughter fills the room. “Merry Christmas my littlest angel”, I hear her say.
Whether her presence was really there with me, or if it was all in my head will truly remain a mystery. The fact her perfect lips were left for a broken hearted girl, needing the love of her grandmother so desperately will truly remain a Christmas treasure, never to be upstaged by any gift, no matter how grand or small.
7 Comments
I felt like I was a fly on the wall. As the author’s descripiton lead me through her journey of feelings, I, too, found myself mirroring her emotions. This novelette touched my heart and makes me believe that no matter the distance of a passing persons soul, they are but a short memory away!
Tears streaming, heart swelling, missing my own Gammie.
Wonderful story
Awesome writing, felt I was there. Felt the writers emotions as I read and related to this story.
Jennifer,
You have a gift. The story is beautiful. I have had on occasion, similar experiences; one recently within the last 30 days. Dell City, OK. while visiting the grave of my fathers little brother, Harold Dean Hodges (died 1937). I, my son Matt and his son Colton bare his middle name.
Those moments are deep and moving, the magnitude of emotions blindside you. One realizes that we, the world, has lost something precious. When I think of my mother and grandparents, I realize that the torch has been passed. To season this world (Jesus said we were to be salt) to the degree they did seems almost daunting.
Uncle Randy
Great Story! I felt like I was really there. I am reminded of my Grandma who passed away a year ago to the day from the birth of my nephew last summer. Her spirit will live on in him…
Darling. I thought of Eudora Welty. Perhaps it was the vivid imagery and the rare hilarious jab. Love it.
She loved you as much as you loved her and she would be thrilled to see your article regarding your memories. They are accurate for I have left her many things as they were so that we can all experience the memories as you do. The things changed were done as we had discussed prior her going to be with God. Nothing remains the same but the memories and you have captured them in your heart.