christmas memory

Christmas 1994. I had driven down to Liberty after work to pick up the boys for a week. We stopped off at the Danville SuperWal-Mart, which was brand new back then. I snagged a shopping cart to dump the boys in because I didn’t feel like trudging across the parking lot or store holding their hands – they were five and three then. We were trundling down the sidewalk toward the “General Merchandise” doors when Tayler blurted out, “Are those great big alligators going to eat us, Mommy?” Thomas almost rolled he was laughing so hard.

I was like, “What? Alligators?”

The lady who was walking near us started laughing as hard as Thomas.

“Over there. Are those great big alligators going to eat us?” Tayler pointed to something along the front wall of the store.

I stopped to look. Then I started laughing so hard I ached. “Tayler! Those are Christmas trees! Christmas trees, not alligators!”

He said, “Oh. We’re safe, then.”

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Author: Mari Adkins

Appalachian gothic fiction writer - my works reflect a love of literature flavored by the darkness and magic residing in these ancient mountains. In my spare time, I'm a Simmer, I tumbl, I journal, but I always have a very strange sense of humor. I have lived away from the mountains and lived deep in the mountains. I currently live in Central Kentucky with my lifepartner and his cat. The mountains, their culture, their superstitions, their particular magics, will always be in my blood.