A perfect Christmas from Aunt Beulah
Years ago, my friend Judy invited me to drop by for a visit the day after Christmas. When I arrived, I found her draping wet laundry around her kitchen and wiping away tears. She wasn’t crying about her dead dryer.
On Christmas Eve, she and her husband were helping her recently married son and his wife prepare dinner in their new home when her son said, “Why don’t you let Mom fix the gravy, Bev. She knows how I like it.”
In response, Bev burst into tears and said to Judy, “I’m sick of hearing about your perfect Christmases, your perfect cooking, your perfect dinners. Why don’t you go home? Here, take my car. I’m sure you’ll drive it perfectly.” Then she grabbed her keys, threw them at Judy and ran from the house, leaving an open-mouthed family, a half-cooked turkey and a doomed merry little Christmas behind.
“I felt…
View original post 438 more words

Upon Emma’s reference to pregnancy, Anya was so shocked she knocked her coffee over. It ran off the table onto little Sally’s blonde curls. Sally howled and both women jumped to see to her. She wailed, but fortunately her face wasn’t even pink. The next few minutes were full of mopping her up and changing her clothes. By the time they’d finished, Rufus had stepped to the door and called Emma to go. Anya composed herself enough to make her goodbyes, promising to ride over with Joe in a few days.