Holiday of Passion and Pain

25 year old Miranda Druel sat in the confinement of her home in silence. Her rocking chair rocked back and forth on her little home while she watched out the window. The neighbors' home was beautifully decorated and everyone seemed to anticipate a lot for the upcoming holiday. A holiday she hated with her gut. She hissed at the sight of some kids building a snowman with their parents and grabbed a cup of coffee for a drink. That was quiet a sight to see, but enough with the drama. She had work to do! With her long ginger hair bouncing off her shoulders, she stood up from the rocky chair and hurried to the dining to begin her job. It was the 20th of December, and everyone got ready for the holidays. But her boss, nah! That guy loved money as hell, and not logging in to work at 9pm that night won’t cause anything but problems for her. Perhaps a resignation letter. Sipping another cup of her drink, she logged in and groaned at the long list of emails and then the meeting link. “Miranda Druel, are you there?” The old man’s voice cut through the terrible network at her side. “Yes, Mr Ham,” she smiled before pushing her hair backwards and relaxing on her couch. The meeting was nerdy, boring, and all they spoke about was moving some workers to a new site. Her boss wouldn’t tell them the site yet, but his great anticipation for more wealth seems to put them on their toes. Perhaps he was referring to Dubai, since that was where he made his recent partnership. “Hillow in Ireland,” her boss finally announced, causing her stomach to skip. Her coffee bursted out of her mouth as she managed to keep her composure. Hillow?! What?! How?! Her heart raced against her chest and she tried as much as possible to be calm. Her finger fidgeted on her laps and memories of a flowing river flooded her ears. “Relax, Miranda,” she calmed herself as she grabbed a napkin to clean off the coffee from her laptop screen. “He didn’t say you will be moving, relax.” She couldn’t shake off the ptsd she had for Hillow. Despite how beautiful the town was, her body couldn’t bury the crawling feeling it gave her. The list of moved workers arrived earlier that night as she got ready for bed, and she wasn’t among them. With deep relief, she leaned against her headboard and stared out of her open window. There were colorful lights released into the skies by kids as they roared in joy and danced around their snowman. Their houses had colorful neon light, and Christmas songs were blasting out their windows. “f**k!” She nagged in irritation, shutting her window’s bind shut. “You all should find a life.” She went back to bed and opened her side table drawer hoping to place her phone in. The sight of an old photo album caught her eyes, making her a bit emotional. Though she’s seen it every single night she hoped to complete her routine, she just couldn’t stop staring at it. It held some memories that caused her heart to flaunter, and the tears in her eyes couldn’t hold back. “I am sorry mum and dad,” she said to herself before keeping her phone in and shutting the drawer shut. She wasn’t from America. She has never been from America. The sound of children laughing, and water splashing ignited a spark of who she really was and where she was from. Where she’d come from, and how it all started. Her eyes fell back to the drawer. O! God! She hasn’t revisited the memories of home for so long. He did wrong to her and she knew it. They separated at rough terms…but…but… could she see her parents at least? The temptation was so strong, and her body couldn’t bear how much she missed her family. Fighting her demons, she hurriedly grabbed hold of the photo album and began to slide through it. She didn’t realize when she sobbed, as her hands went on her mouth staring at the pictures of her parents carrying her as a child. Then she’d caught sight of the picture of her extended family as a whole. Her hands slid to the next page, and their pictures came in frame. All four of them naked on the waterfall and rocking it like their lives depended on it. Her hands slowly slid the glossy texture of the photo album. “Mum?” The sound of a child said from her door as her eyes went down to that of a handsome man with blue eyes. His build was different, and the sparkle in his eyes said a lot about his jovial personality. “Why am I doing this?! Miranda, stop!” She said to herself in anger, before placing the photo album back into her drawer. “It is gone now! Just forget him, okay?” She jaunted to the door, her strand of hair coming to her face each time. Her hands slid the door open, and a 5 year old walked in holding her teddy bear with a grin plastered on her face. “Amelia, are you scared again?” She asked knowing her daughter too well. She’d locked the door behind them, and slapped her bed for her to get on it. The child sharply did that. “I wanna go outside and play with other kids,” Amelia made her point, with boredom furrowing her brows. “Mum, why don’t we ever celebrate Christmas? Everyone decorates the house and we don’t.” Miranda sighed and drew Amelia close for a hug. Of course she couldn’t avoid that question forever, and Amelia was growing older. She was getting more observant. “We just don’t do Christmas here, okay?” She said, kissing her hair. “We do mummy and Amelia’s time.” “No!” Amelia pushed her off rebelliously. Miranda's eyes widened in shock. “Amelia…” “I want Christmas! I want to play like everyone else on the snow. I want to build a Christmas tree and have presents. I want our whole family to be here together.” Miranda’s heart sunk as she bit her lips helplessly. This child wasn’t understanding, was she? Why don’t children ever understand? “Amelia, we…we cannot celebrate Christmas. You need to understand,” she cupped her cheeks. “But why? Everyone celebrates Christmas, see…” the girl hurried to her window and slid it open showing the brightly decorated homes, and the bubbly streets. Miranda’s patient ran thin. Alright, the girl was really getting on her nerves. “Amelia! No Christmas and that’s final! Stop asking questions and touching my window!” She yelled in anger, as she furiously shut her window. Tears gathered Amelia’s eyes as she stared at her with hurt. “But my birthday is this December, why not celebrate Christmas for my sake?” She asked, hugging her teddy tighter than before. Miranda felt deep guilt for yelling at Amelia. The girl was a freaking child. She couldn’t understand it better. “Amelia, I am sorry,” she apologized, drawing closer to her, but Amelia dodged her touch and ran out, shutting the door behind her. “Amelia!” She yelled after her 6 year old, but there was no response. The child had her own way and she was done with her. Miranda sat on her bed, hugging her legs close to her chest. Perhaps the saying was right. Rebellious children get treated the same way by their own kids. Amelia reminded her so much of herself as a child and she hated it so much. She slid her way back into the sheets, before forcing her eyes shut. She couldn’t sleep. The sound of the fireworks brought back memories, and her lips felt sensitive as it all came sliding back. “Stop Miranda, please.”