Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Mom and Bill have apparently hit the road.

It is Christmas Day and they are in their car, bombing over hill and dale to the sunny south, one day earlier than even their usual truncated visit.

They are evidently worried about the weather.

A quick peek outside indicates nothing apocalyptic. No wind, no rain, nor winter storm…I am singing Diana Ross in my head. Evidently Diana had more guts than Mom and Bill, or maybe a better car, because they could not stop her (baby!). Maybe Diana just had more interest in seeing her family. Ain’t no mountain high enough. Ain’t no valley low enough. And no river wide enough…

It apparently didn’t take much to stop Mom and Bill.

They stopped briefly at Charlotte and Jack’s to drop off gifts for my children and me. I suppose I live too far out of their way. A detour just wouldn’t be prudent with such a storm brewing. They are running about like the hare in Alice in Wonderland.

And I have to ask myself: If the storm of the century were to hit overnight, and they could not get on the road according to schedule in the morning, would the world stop spinning on its axis? Would another day or two be of any great expense, imposition, or torture?

To hear my nephews retell the tale of the visit is comical. Loud and blustering to the end, they came in rambling jubilantly about all manner of topics. They present Jack with an (average) bottle of wine they raved on and on about. Went on an on with no end in sight, protesting too much about the weather. Shared a few scant tidbits about all the hellacious goings on since they crossed the border into our state. Gotta run. Need to get on the road before more Hell breaks loose. Locusts. Frogs. Famine. Drought. Something Biblical is afoot for sure.

My nephews deduce that Bill is drunk.

It is 9 am.

I ask how they know this. Did Bill brag that he’d hit the paint at breakfast? I wouldn’t be at all surprised.

No he was slurring the syllables he was booming in their kitchen.

Did he smell like alcohol.

A round of grimaces.

No, they weren’t about to get that close.

I tell them he probably wasn’t deranged enough to drink before a 9 hour drive. And when he has been drinking he’s fairly vocal about how bad a driver my mother is and how he can’t let her drive because he can’t relax. Could he still be lit up from the night before? Could a good morning belt in the coffee be his way to ensure he can relax while Mom bobs and weaves across the Colonies?

It’s anyone’s guess really. I am glad I will have the benefit of my Mad Elf for the ride.

Truly I can not believe that Mom has really left town and has not so much as called my children to say Merry Christmas.

I place the carton of gifts in my car before we head to Jack’s family’s home. I admit, I listened carefully to hear if anything was ticking. Hopefully any detonation will occur while I am welcomed by another more accepting family for the holiday.