The Christmas Blizzard of `82, Pt. 1 (Guest Post by Mikelle Ellis)

Hello friends. How about a guest blog post? This is the first of 2 from my friend Mikelle Ellis.

Who is Mikelle? I’ll let them tell you. Here’s a short bio they wrote about themselves, followed by their post. Enjoy and much love.

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Mikelle is an Autistic Asexual Genderfluid human. They live with their amazing wife Corrie and their 2 dogs Layla and Scampi. They are the host of Adventures in Traumaland, which can be seen weekly on YouTube. Mikelle is also working on their debut book entitled "A Supernova of Grief."

This is an excerpt from that book. http://mikelleellis.substack.com/

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I can remember the snow falling early and fast.

My dad getting us all ready, mom making sure we were bundled up. Because you know, little kids need to be bundled up.

I remember Dusty, our tannish yellow station wagon. Tons of Christmas presents in the hatch back.

Snow is really coming down.

LET’S GOOOOO!!!!! My dad bellows, mostly for his own benefit, but directed at Mark and I.

I’m 5.

My brother is 7.

He’s right on the edge of not believing in Him anymore.

But me?

I’m all in!

Santa is coming tonight.

We’re all in the car. Mark and I in the back, me behind Dad.

Dad’s a bit shorter with us than normal. The roads are bad but of course, I don’t understand.

I am mesmerized!

I am captivated!

It’s a magical Christmas!

And we’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

Everyone will be there!

Memory is such a strange bedfellow.

an unreliable narrator. Like someone's great uncle who knows all the family history, but gets so drunk that the history becomes fable without anyone noticing.

I cannot pretend to give you a blow by blow account for the greatest Christmas of all time, it was 40 years ago.

But, I can give you a sketch.

Upon arrival, us kids would run up the stairs!

Hug grandma tight.

Get the obligatory smooch.

She’s not as sloppy as Great Grandma, but it still feels wet somehow. I remember arriving earlier than expected, because the blizzard that we thought was coming later today, was already here.

Normally, Grandpa would be in his chair. But at this hour? He could have been at the table. Coffee in hand, no cream, sugar.

Eating a boring dull grown up cereal!

Grandpa smells like old spice.

When he hugs me, I feel his whiskers.

Always clean shaven, but he only shaved once a week.

So his hugs felt scratchy on my face and smelled like old spice and tobacco.

I seem to have a superpower, to remember people by how they hug.

Because as I write this. I can feel him.

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Now normally this day would be spent goofing off! With my cousin Jarred.

Harassing or being harassed by Bryan and Mark.

Wynne and Bruce were older, but not yet “Cool” but man did I grow up wanting to impress them. To be included by them.

Bryan those days is so connected to the memories of Mark that Bryan has become a surrogate brother to me.

And when we lost Jarred……

But anyway we would normally be doing all of these things. But Uncle Myron and his family have gotten hung up in Northern CO because of the Blizzard that decided to arrive early to the party, while we were still decorating!!!!

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So I don’t remember too much about the day. Either sports or movies would have been on the TV. I probably convinced grandpa to let me listen to I Yust go Nuts at Christmas by Yogi Yorginson for the 10th time.

I can almost assure you Mark and I dug into the toy chest of drawers. three full drawers full of random toys. Cars, toy guns, action figures and a toy music box that played My Name is Michael. I was convinced this was MY song.

Later that evening Great Grandma was making a cake…. well….. a cake out of vegetables.

I asked what she was doing.

“Making a Birthday cake!”

I asked who for…

“For Jesus! Good Night Michael, who do you think?

“Santa?” I stammer.

I got out of there fast. Nothing hurts more that a spanking from great grandma.

God I miss her …

Glenn Siepert