27 December 2012
Blue Christmases Past
My mother was a looker (of the Nashville lookers) and men injured their necks whenever she breezed by on Charlotte Ave. And some even whistled while they were out walking with their very own wives. Especially in the summer. In the winter, on the faintest hope, I kept to the window and waited. Momma’s blue-bulbed candoliers (the melting wax running down molded right into the plastic) we taped to the sills because the electric cords tended to pull them onto the floor. And since those cheap blue lights – probably a fire hazard since they always overheated – were her only luxuries in that entire house, I kept to the window and waited, hoping for snow to fall and added more painter’s tape as needed.