A Cinnamon Roll for Christmas Eve

Dearest Rachel –

I mentioned yesterday about picking up a little more than dinner at the mall the other night. And yes, it made the whole trip there that much longer, what with there being a line there every bit as long as each other place I stopped (including twice at the pretzel shop, as the place Daniel wanted me to pick dinner up from didn’t have what he wanted). But it’s been long enough since we’d gotten anything from there, and it’s been a rough enough year that I’d like to think we might be entitled to certain small indulgences.

So here’s breakfast for each of us for Christmas Eve:

Although whether I have any right to call this small might be subject to debate; and to consider this a balanced breakfast probably only counts if I’m holding mine and Daniel’s in either hand.

I’d like to think you remember the last time we got anything from Cinnabon. I’m pretty sure it was December of 2018: we had bought their largest box of Minibons in order to take down with us to Macomb, and distribute among the nurses who were caring for your mom. We even bought a dozen or so of those disposable sealable containers, so that we could package them for any of the nursing staff that we didn’t actually meet while we were down there that weekend.

It would’ve been considered an exotic treat for any of them, as there were (and still are) no places where they might be able to find a Cinnabon outlet down there; the closest mall was a 45 minute drive up to Galesburg, and that place was nearly dead and empty, and I’m pretty sure didn’t have such a place in any event. Not to mention, the entire mall closed up entirely a couple years later.

But that closure was still in the future at that point. In that present time, we brought enough rolls to distribute among all of the nurses, with a spare for Twofeathers’ husband Stan, as well as one for each of us and your mom – although I think I remember your mom taking two or three breakfasts to polish off hers.

It wouldn’t be much longer – less than three months – that we would be taking the same team out to dinner at a local family restaurant, as a final ‘thank you’ for taking such care as they had of your mom. You had, through their lawyers, discovered a life insurance policy that paid out to us, and you had me write out checks to each of them at the time as well, a sort of severance package now that their services were no longer required. Relatively speaking, those checks didn’t amount to all that much, but it was something on the order of two full-time weeks’ pay without deductions (since this was essentially a gift rather than strictly payroll) at the going wage down there – I sometimes forget how different the standard of living is downstate from here in the suburbs. The gratitude from most of the nurses was really more than I would have expected; you really get the whole concept of ‘more blessed to give than receive’ in moments like that. I forget if you had anything to say on the matter, but I remember murmuring “It’s nothing,” in several cases – and meaning it.

I know I commented previously on the slang definition of ‘cinnamon roll.’ I would hardly claim that Cinnabons are ‘too good for this sinful earth’; in fact, nutritionally speaking, they’re probably terrible for us. That’s why we don’t have them very often, except in very special occasions. But that’s what Christmas is; a special time to enjoy special things. Besides, I’m going to need the sugar rush to get through today. I’ll try to keep you posted about that, assuming I have the time.

In the meantime, honey, wish me luck. I’m going to need it.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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