How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

They chuckled and high-fived. Oh what an unexpected trick!

Cole Black as the Kringle, with Max his holly jolly sidekick.

“She won’t know what’s coming,” they said with a cheerful gloat.

Never has a Kringle competition been so holly jolly cutthroat.

“You need a notebook and a pen,” Aunt Cindy says as she props herself up in her bed.

Yesterday she was walking around, watching videos of Niall the G-string man, and today she’s feeble, pointing around with a shaking hand, asking for ice chips. When I say that she knows how to work the room, I’m not lying, because she has my sister practically eating out of her hand.

“Here are those ice chips for you, Aunt Cindy,” Taran says as she enters the room.

“You are such a dear,” Aunt Cindy says as she pats Taran on the cheek. Slowly, she lifts one to her mouth and rolls it around, letting the cold hit every inch of her tongue and cheeks.

Meanwhile, I sit in the corner of her first-floor bedroom, trying not to get dizzy from the array of varying floral prints, ranging from curtains to wallpaper to bedding to, yes, you guessed it, flooring. Well, more like an area rug, but it’s floral. I’ve been in her room a number of times, but it’s generally been a quick in and out. This extended period is giving me all sorts of confusion with a headache developing at the base of my skull.

Sure, the headache could also be from the worrying I’ve been doing all night, but we don’t need to get into that.

“Now that my mouth is moistened,” Aunt Cindy says as I try not to flinch from the use of moist, “we should get started on our chat.”

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll work on taking those Christmas boxes downstairs so we can decorate later,” Taran says…a little brown on her nose.

“You are so helpful, thank you, dear.”

Oh my God.

Yes, Taran is perfect.

She gave Aunt Cindy a sponge bath this morning, helped her into her clothes, and has been at her beck and call, but I was the one who brought home pastries from Warm Your Spirit, the local coffee shop, and made everyone a protein smoothie to go with it. Not sure Taran would have the strength to scrub the crevices if it weren’t for my nourishment.

Not that I’m looking for praise, but I braved the frigid temperatures this morning as I hiked into town.

Aunt Cindy thought it would be best if I showed my face around more, especially since I entered the Kringle competition.

Entered being a loose term…more like forced into slapping down my name.

But I chose to be cooperative this morning as I strutted into town, bundled up so as to prevent wind burn. People were lucky to see my face through the gaiter I pulled on and the ski goggles I wore because of how windy it was. Snow in the eyes is not my idea of fun.

When Taran leaves the room, Aunt Cindy focuses her attention back on me. “Do you have that notepad and pen?”

I hold up my phone. “I take all my notes in here.”

Aunt Cindy’s brow creases. “A phone? How can you possibly take proper notes on that device?”

“In the notes app,” I say. “It’s where I make all of my notes when I’m editing or on a Zoom chat. Between my phone and my tablet, I’m set.”

She studies me for a moment, clearly not thrilled with my choice. But after a few awkward seconds of silence and a subtle stare down, Aunt Cindy accepts my note-taking device.

“As you know, I had you entered into the competition, so the town is very much aware of your desire to become the Christmas Kringle.”

“Well, your desire for me to become the Christmas Kringle, technically,” I add with a smile. “I’d be very happy staying out of the limelight and watching the events unfold from a healthy distance where no one can be pushed into rivers and children won’t scream because the signature tree in Baubles and Wrappings tips over…”

Aunt Cindy waves her hand in dismissal. “That’s in the past, Storee. We’re looking toward the future now. You’re older, wiser, and you’ve grown into your nose.”

I grip my nose again, taking in the backhanded compliment for the second time since I’ve been here. I make a mental note to talk to Taran about this, because I think we’re missing something here.

“This is your time to shine, but it’s only going to work if you commit to it,” Aunt Cindy continues. “Which means you need to stop being shy about the task in front of you and jump in feet first.” She makes a shaky fist with her hand, pumping it with encouragement.

I don’t think she realizes pep talks aren’t my thing.

“I don’t know, Aunt Cindy. I really came here to help you, not to go around town taking part in a silly Christmas competition.”

“Silly?” She gasps at the insult. “There is nothing silly about wanting to become the Christmas Kringle. It’s the highest honor, Storee. People around town beg and plead to even be welcomed into the competition. And if you were to enter on your own, there’s no way you would get in, but with you representing me…well, we have a surefire way to slip you in. Just five are selected every year, and then there is only one winner. Out of all the people in town, only one person prevails. There’s nothing silly about it—it’s a time-honored tradition that dates back a few years.”

Well, some might not call that time-honored if it only dates back a few years, but I’m not going to be the one who sets her straight. I’ve already tipped the scale of annoying her.

“Sorry,” I say, realizing silly was a very stupid adjective to use.

“I appreciate the apology.” She clears her throat. “I would like for you to look at the situation with a different perspective.” She struggles to sit up and I attempt to help her, but she waves me off. When she’s finally settled, she looks me in the eyes. “I’ve always felt like we share a kindred spirit.” She glances toward the door and then back at me. “I love your sister dearly, but she’s more…how do I put this…robotic?” I hold back my snort, because she couldn’t have described Taran better.

“She can be a bit tense at times,” I say.

“Yes, tense, stiff, sometimes unwelcoming, but with you, it’s always felt…easy. We share the same interests and we have the same thirst for life, even if that means you tend to find joy in taking care of a ficus rather than a Christmas tree.”

I press my hand to my chest. “Alexander and I have a special bond.”

“Precisely.” Aunt Cindy’s smile grows wide. “Your sister would never bond with a tree.”

“She refuses to claim Alexander as a nephew, and I know it hurts him.”

“And I doubt she ever will, because that’s her personality. She will n ot be the one who gives an inanimate object feelings. She’d be a terrible choice as someone to enter into the Kringle competition, because she wouldn’t add flair. She’d go by the book and never stray to add her own personality to it. Whereas you, my dear…you have that creative spirit. And I know in the past you’ve been burned by happenings in this town, but you can do this; I know you can. And better yet, you and I can do this together.”

Hell, when she puts it like that, she actually makes me believe I have the ability to set aside my fears and take this head-on.

“Tell me,” she continues, “how has life been?”

“What do you mean?” I ask as I cross one leg over the other.

“Any excitement? Anything taking you out of your comfort zone? Anything that removes you from whatever film you’re editing, lets you experience the sun shining, the birds chirping, the world turning around you, the stars twinkling above you at night, and the crisp winter air breathing life back into your lungs?”

“Uh…” I pick a piece of lint off my joggers. “Well, it’s been pretty busy lately with all the work I’ve been given”—a total lie, but she doesn’t need to know that—so I haven’t really had a chance to look up. I think this is the first time in months that I don’t have my computer in front of me.”

She slowly nods. “Well, let me tell you something, Storee. There comes a time when you realize that there aren’t many years left on your life card, and you start thinking back to everything you accomplished. And you start wondering…did I do it right? I don’t want you to look back on your life one day from a hospital bed and regret never taking full advantage of all the opportunities presented to you.”

“I know,” I say softly as I bite down on the corner of my mouth.

“Your sister, she’s programmed to find happiness within her confines of functionality. She finds her greatest comfort in being the robotic human that she is. She likes taking care of people, helping them, making them better; she always has. I don’t worry about her because I know that s he’s found a kind of solace in her life. But you…you’re the one I worry about. I’m not sure you’ve found that inner peace. It took me a while to find it. Actually, it wasn’t until I moved into this house that I knew…this is where my peace is. I’d like you to find the same thing.”

“I love visiting you, Aunt Cindy, but I don’t think the tundra is where I’m going to find my peace.”

She chuckles. “I’m not talking about moving here, but I am talking about you finding that peace. That’s so important. And stepping out of your comfort zone and doing things that open your eyes to the world around you are the first steps.”

I sigh and lean back in my chair. “So what you’re saying to me is that if I jump into this Kringle competition feet first, not holding back, embracing the challenge, then it will set me up for so much more in life, possibly finding a sense of calm you don’t think I possess?”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“You tell me…do you feel calm?”

I shift my legs, switching which one is crossed over the other. “I mean, I was very comfortable in my chair, in my home, ready to watch Lovemark Christmas movies.”

“But were you experiencing life?”

“No,” I answer honestly.

“Did you have plans to celebrate Christmas?”

“No,” I reply, feeling a touch of shame.

She looks out the window of her room, toward the backyard that’s shrouded in tall pines dusted in fluffy white snow. “That makes me sad, Storee. When your parents would bring you here for Christmas, it was…well.” She clears her throat and turns to look at me again. “Those days hold my most cherished memories. Watching you girls run up and down the stairwell when you smelled fresh cookies. How we would sit in front of the fireplace, cross-stitching silly Christmas sayings to hang in the bathroom. Those late nights we would hunker under blanket forts, discussing when we thought Santa was going to arrive. I will leave this earth w ith those memories close to my heart. I don’t want those memories to die with me.”

“They won’t,” I say, my throat growing tight. I thought I was prepared for such a conversation, but if I’m honest, I can’t imagine my life without her in it. Even we weren’t visiting, she would continue to send us emails and letters, and we stayed in touch—just not in person. We’ve always been closer to Aunt Cindy than we were to our actual grandparents. She’s so warm and full of love…and sass. She gave us amazing Christmases, and I’m sad that I’ve let that go. Let the magic go. In some sense, to not celebrate here, to not celebrate in Kringletown is to not celebrate Aunt Cindy. And that’s not okay.

“What good are memories if you don’t replicate them, if you don’t repeat them…if you don’t share them?”

She’s right. I know she is.

I think over the last few years…and I know I’ve grown complacent in my life.

In my job.

In everything I do.

My friends asked me if I wanted to go out on Friday nights, and instead I stayed home and I worked. To the point that now…they don’t even ask anymore.

My love life is nonexistent. I haven’t even attempted to go out on a date, just sat at home, in my blanket hoodie, watching cooking videos but never cooking for myself.

I’ve found a certain comfort in not doing anything, but Aunt Cindy is right: That’s not really living; that’s skating by. If I’ve learned anything from Aunt Cindy throughout all these years of being around her, observing her, it’s that she lives a spirited, free life with no shame.

Meanwhile, I’ve closed in on myself.

And maybe…just maybe…it’s time to change that.

A smile crosses Aunt Cindy’s lips when I look up at her.

“You’re going to jump in feet first, aren’t you?”

Chin held high, I fold my hands in my lap. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we really should do it right.”