On the Alberta/Montana Border: Reunited

I spun around.

“Your door was open and I called and I called. I even used my ‘foghorn’ voice. But you didn’t answer.”

I let out my breath and brushed self-consciously at my cheeks. “Hi, Edith,” I said. “You startled me.”

She eyed me for a moment--my reddened eyes. The obvious tear tracks down my cheeks. “You did invite me. Didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“I could hear you talking to someone, so I knew you were here.” She looked around, puzzled. “You were talking to someone, weren’t you?”

I sighed. Okay, I know that Cousin Edith is my closest relative apart from she-who-is-everywhere-but-cannot-be-seen. But let’s face it. Hers wasn’t the face I was hoping to see.

“Oh, this is for you.” She held out a basket. “I’m assuming, anyways. It was on your front step.”

I peered at it suspiciously. “On my front step?”

“Yeah. I figured someone must have left it there. It was in a pretty obvious ‘trip-over-me’ location.” She looked around. “Where do you want me to put it?”

I blinked. “What’s in it?”

She set the basket on the table and we pawed through it together.

“Huh. Pre-cooked turkey. Pre-cooked potatoes and vegetables. Pre-cooked everything!” I held up a small, stone crock. “Even pre-cooked . . .” my voice caught, “. . . Swedish meatballs.” I felt a bright stab of . . . something that approached both pain and happiness. “Whoever sent this definitely knows me. This is my idea of Christmas dinner!”

Cousin Edith finished sorting through the packages. “Look! Some nice, rum-filled chocolates to end with.”

“Or start with.” I reached for the box, deftly slit the cellophane wrapping and flipped the lid to the table. Yes. I have to admit, I’ve done this before. “Want some?”

Cousin Edith balled up plump fists and waved them excitedly. “Ooooh! Maybe just one.”

You have to know that, for women like us, ‘just one’ could mean many things. Just one chocolate. Or, more likely, just one row or, better yet, one layer.

Half an hour later, I foiled the last chocolate's escape attempt, catching it before it could roll to the floor. Cradling it in my hand, I sat back and muzzily surveyed the room. My cousin nearly comatose in the chair opposite, the empty chocolate box upside-down on the floor between us, and Reggie looking at both of us in patented bird-disgust.

He ruffled his feathers, clicked his beak and croaked out, “Smelly old broad!”

I threw the chocolate at him and he squawked and said something rude.

I turned away and slumped down comfortably in my chair, certain I was supposed to be doing something. But not caring one whit if it ever got done.

“Ohhhh, my head!” Edith said.

“My stomach!” I said in much the same tone.

Party animals, we’re not.

“I’ll get the Tums.” I got to my feet, then gripped the arm of the chair I had been sitting in as the room assumed a parabolic swing.

“And maybe a cool cloth for my head?” Edith said, hopefully.

I nodded carefully, then with equal care, started toward the kitchen. Halfway across the room, I stopped. Listened. I looked at Cousin Edith. “Did you hear that?”

She looked up at me a bit blearily. “Hear what?”

“Never mind.” I continued across the room and flipped the door back.

Norma straightened from in front of the oven and glared at me. “When I sent this food, I didn’t mean to see it left here on the table to decompose!”

I stopped breathing and just stood there, staring, the effects of my recent close encounter with rum draining away.

She lifted the chocolate box lid and looked around for the chocolates. “I see the most important things got taken care of.”

“Norma?” My words had a hard time getting past my tight throat. “Norma?”

She smiled and spread her arms wide. “Surprise!”

My legs felt rubbery as I gingerly crossed the kitchen. I reached out and touched her shoulder. “Norma?”

“Merry Christmas, Sis!”

I wrapped my arms around her plump form and squeezed. “Norma!”

She hugged me, patting my back as I took a sobbing breath. Then I gripped her by the shoulders and held her away so I could look at her. “Are you all right? Do you need to bathe? Are you . . . hungry?” Okay, yes, I guess you could say my mind was justifiably firing in many different directions.

She laughed. “I’m fine, to answer your first question. Yes, I could use a bath. They don’t have them over there, but they don’t really seem to be needed. And I’m planning on sharing this . . .” she glanced over the pre-prepared dinner sitting on the table, “. . . erm . . . feast with you and Cousin Edith.”

“Norma?”

We both turned. Cousin Edith was standing in the doorway. The expression on her face must have been a mirror image of mine.

“Hi, Cousin Edith!” Norma said, brightly. “Merry Christmas!”

Edith isn’t made of the same stern stuff as me.

Edith fainted . . .

Christmas dinner happened. Probably not as fancy as feasts in other homes.

Or as plentiful.

But, though at least one member of the party was rather peaked-looking, I don’t think there was another celebration that was as happy.

Funny how you don’t really appreciate something—or someone—until they are taken from you.

Fortunately for me, Norma was returned.

Much the same as she had always been.

“Mama’s home, Baby!” she said brightly as she reached into the cage for her looney handful of beak and feathers.

Reggie danced up her arm to her shoulder, sat there a moment, blinking and bobbing, then reached out and bit her on the ear, drawing a bright drop of blood.

“I love you, too, sweetie,” Norma crooned.

Yep. Much as she had always been.

Weird old bird.

Enjoying this episode of the Sputterling Sisters?
Catch up with them here:
Coming Home

Sticking to It
From Over There

Barbecue With Spirits
Something Scary
Beached
Christmas with the Sputterlings
Raindance

Tell-Tale Sneeze
Sisters
Catching Up