Free Cornucopia by Melanie Jackson Page A

stalemate.
    Opening the front door, I slipped the hanger over the top of the door and hung the wreath on it. I noticed that the children who had once more gathered out front watched me suspiciously. I waved before closing the door and returning to the living room. Everyone was seated with their hands clasped in their laps, except for Uncle Albert who stood glaring down at them.
    “So, how are your preparations for Christmas dinner coming along?” my mother asked to break the awkward silence.
    “I’m thawing the bird. I have plenty of food—no one should starve. Cost me a pretty penny, all that food did. I’m pretty sure the local market raises their prices just for the holidays. I have half a mind to get some of my money back from the crook that runs the place.”
    “Well, isn’t that interesting,” my mother said in order to put an end to the tirade that was surely brewing.
    “We brought pies,” Alex said and it was only then that I noticed he was still holding the pies.
    “I’ll take those to the kitchen,” Albert said, relieving Alex of the burden. “Besides, I have to call the shop. I left Bob, my assistant, in charge of the place today, but he’s always falling asleep on the job. I’ll need to wake him up and tell him it’s time to close up shop and go home.”
    Albert started to leave but turned back for one last word.
    “I’m telling you, it’s hard to find good help these days.”
    And with that he was gone. I made strained faces and pretended to tear my hair out and chew my fingernails while Albert was gone. Eventually he returned to stand once more in the corner.
    “Well now, Lucy, would you like to give Albert your present?” my father asked, picking the box up from the floor beside the sofa where he’d laid it.
    “Yes, let him open his present,” I said with interest. “I’ve been wondering what this could be since I first saw it.”
    “You didn’t have to bring me a present,” Albert said. “I didn’t get you anything.”
    “But I wanted to, Albert. Besides, I think you’re going to like it.”
    “But you didn’t have to is all I’m saying.”
    My father set the box on the coffee table and opened the lid. He then pulled out an 8-millimeter movie projector and several reels of film.
    “Oh boy, home movies,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands and smiling broadly.
    “What’s this?” Albert challenged.
    “They’re movies from our youth,” my mother explained. “I thought that it might be fun reliving some of our old holidays and other good times past.”
    “We can project the movies right here on this wall,” my father pointed out.
    Dad then searched for a power outlet and plugged in the projector. He attached a reel of film to the projector and fed it through the machine to the take-up reel. He then turned off the only light, plunging the room into darkness.
    “Don’t stand around being so stiff and formal, Albert,” my mother scolded. “Here, have a seat next to me,” she added, patting the sofa cushion beside her.
    Albert grudgingly took a seat beside his sister and she placed an arm across his shoulders. Dad turned on the projector and the film began clicking as it played.
    The film started with scenes of a baby in a stroller being pushed by a little girl.
    “Who’s that, Mom?” I asked.
    “That’s me pushing Albert in his stroller,” my mother replied.
    I couldn’t believe that my mother had once been so young, and she was adorable too. The scene switched to my mother holding Albert in her arms. The fact that he looked like such a happy baby surprised me to no end. Next came pictures of my grandparents, who had passed away years ago, pushing Albert in a swing. Little Albert laughed the whole time and though there was no sound you could almost hear him calling to go higher. As the movie progressed the children grew older. They were shown on vacations where their car drove through a tunnel burrowed in a giant redwood, and hikes and swims abounded. Albert was