Things I am Thankful for This Holiday Evening:
Thank you for this crackling fire
Beneath my twinkling, tinsel-decorated fireplace mantel,
Which I enjoy from this pillowy armchair
With my knitting needles in hand and doily-adorned sewing machine close by.
Thank you for the pleasant clinking of the needles
And the glide of the soft yarn in my hands.
These things keep me calm enough
To endure his vile, eggnog-chugging belches,
His whining about politics,
His honking as he blows yellow-green mucus
Into my grandmother’s (rest her soul) antique handkerchiefs.
Thank you for the memory of his long-ago marriage proposal
That comes to me when he leaves for the bathroom to clear his bowels.
The momentary silence allows me to regain composure
And remember what the holidays are all about.
Thank you for the restraint in uttering just two words,
To him when his shit stink wafts into the living room
Along with his schoolboy belly laughs for toilet humor
Personifying his droppings as children whom he birthed.
Thank you for keeping the toilet bowl from overflowing
From the clog that he causes by using too much paper
And eating like a greedy pig.
An overflow on top of his filthy curse-word streak
Would have sent me over the edge.
Thank you for his sweet offer to bring my famous berry pie to the table,
(Albeit with unwashed hands)
The one that turns out better than any year I can remember,
The one he carries from the oven wearing the mits
Without the silicone anti-slip grips.
Thank you for the strength in my arm and the knitting needle
That I plunge fatally into his neck while he is on all fours
Oafishly wiping up his berry pie spill
That stains my silk-white Christmas tree skirt.
Thank you for this quiet sewing opportunity
(Any excuse to sew is a blessing I say)
That I enjoy on the floor in the glow of my multicolored tree lights,
Sewing his eyelids together so as he’ll never see porn or ogle my sister anymore,
Sewing his lips shut so a vile word or hint of halitosis never escapes,
Sewing his ears closed because they never listen to my warmth or feelings anyway,
Thank you for the phone call that comes after I wash my hands
With my apple-cinnamon holiday soap,
The call from my angelic son who moved to Vermont a few years back
And wishes me a Merry Christmas.
Thank you for the fact that my son is not visiting this year
So when he asks me to “Put Dad on the line”
I am able to hang up after I tell him, “Dad’s all in stitches at the moment”,
And buy myself at least one last night of peace by the fire
In this heavenly armchair
Before the relatives arrive tomorrow.
I wanted to write a dark story with a holiday atmosphere since it’s around that time of year. I got the inspiration for a creepy holiday vibe after reading this awesome lady’s post (Click Here). Please check out her blog. I enjoy it.
As for the plot of my story, I remembered a friend once teasing about gluing me shut or something to that effect so I thought up this story from that. And I love the dual meaning of the title, referring to her knitting needles as the murder weapon and how her husband needles at her nerves which pushes her into snapping.
May you all be well, fellow wordpressers and human beings! May you never feel alone, may you find thankfulness and goodness and peace around many turns as often as possible.
In case you need the horror balanced out, here is my actual, personal thank-you list to many people:
Thank you for being there.
Thank you for uplifting me.
Thank you for meaningful conversations.
Thank you for understanding me.
Thank you for knowing me and what I like.
Thank you for riffing with me.
Thank you for laughing with me.
Thank you for sharing music and all your interests with me.
Thank you for your intellect and knowledge.
Thank you for bonding with me.
Thank you for your time.
Thank you for genuine kindness, open-mindedness, and warmth.
Thank you for seeing my talents.
Thank you for seeing the qualities in my character.
Thank you for seeing me as an individual.
Thank you for seeing the good in me.