Last Christmas, my brother Ryan and his wife Lindsey showed up at my door out of the blue because their heating system had broken. I had no idea that their visit would turn into a holiday full of trouble.
Lindsey’s behaviour, like using our bathroom without asking, taking clothes without asking and, worst of all, throwing away my mother’s ashes without telling me first, made me angry. Her lack of concern made me very angry.
After a crazy night, the toilet finally backed up and filled their room with dirty water and bad smells. My husband Nathan’s cool attitude and clever comment, “Maybe some kind of Christmas miracle,” helped calm things down.
Lindsey’s bad luck kept going: a plumber couldn’t fix the problem until after Christmas, so our Christmas dinner smelt like sewage for a long time. She was unusually quiet, even though she was generally very talkative.
Ryan told Lindsey he was sorry for what she did and accepted that she was wrong. I didn’t get more angry because I thought making her feel bad was enough justice.
As Christmas came to a close, I felt my mother’s presence and thought that literary justice had been done. Everyone in Lindsey’s family suddenly came together against her because of what she did.
This Christmas story shows that being kind can be tried, but good karma wins in the end. I will always remember my mum, and Lindsey learnt a lesson.
