“Mom’s Christmas Escape”

Sheila trudged into the sprawling mall parking lot, clutching a worn and crumpled list in one hand and her oversized purse in the other. The air was crisp, and the faint scent of pine mixed with exhaust fumes. Christmas lights twinkled from the lampposts, casting a festive glow that failed to lift Sheila’s spirits. She had barely slept the night before, and the endless mental carousel of tasks she had to accomplish was starting to take its toll.

The list was specific—too specific. Her sister-in-law wanted that exact scented candle from that boutique store on the far side of town. Her eldest daughter, Emma, had requested a rare collector’s edition of a novel Sheila had only ever seen online. Her mother-in-law expected a hand-knitted scarf in a very particular shade of blue, which Sheila had been hunting for weeks. The list went on, each demand more frustrating than the last.

Sheila wasn’t even sure why she cared anymore. Every year, she poured her heart into making the holidays magical for everyone else, but it always left her drained.

She checked her watch. Two hours before her husband, Steve, expected her home. She sighed and moved toward the nearest department store.

Her phone buzzed as she maneuvered through the throng of holiday shoppers. Balancing an armful of mismatched gift boxes, she fumbled to pull it out. Steve’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey,” she answered, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“Sheila!” Steve’s voice was unusually bright and slurred at the edges. “When are you coming home? I’m starving.”

Sheila froze. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” he laughed, the sound light and carefree. Too carefree. “Jeff and I—uh, we might’ve had a little, you know, holiday cheer.”

Her brow furrowed. “Holiday cheer? Are you drunk?”

“Not drunk.” He paused, then giggled. “Okay, not just drunk. We smoked a little.”

“You what?” Sheila’s voice rose an octave, drawing curious glances from nearby shoppers. “Are you seriously telling me you got high while watching the kids?”

Steve rushed to clarify. “No, no, no! Mom came and picked up the kids. She needed taste-testers for the cookies or something. They’re all at her place.”

Relief washed over her, but it was quickly followed by irritation. “So, you’re sitting at home getting baked with Jeff while I’m out here trying to find a navy-blue scarf and a limited-edition book? And now you’re asking me to bring food home?”

Steve chuckled nervously. “Taco Bell, please? Crunchwrap Supreme? I love you.”

Sheila rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. “Fine. I’ll bring food. But I’m going to finish my shopping first.”

“Love you, babe!” Steve sang, clearly unbothered.

Sheila hung up, muttering under her breath, “Unbelievable.”

As she stood in line at the next store, Sheila glanced at her list. The tasks loomed impossibly large. Candle, scarf, book, obscure board game, gourmet chocolates, personalized ornaments…

Her chest tightened. Why was she doing all of this? For people who barely acknowledged her effort? For in-laws who excluded her from baking, even though she loved it? For a husband who couldn’t keep it together for one afternoon?

The realization hit her like a freight train. She didn’t have to do any of it.

She crumpled the list into a ball, tossing it into the nearest trash can with more force than necessary.

Pulling out her phone, Sheila opened her GPS and typed in the address of the nearest dispensary.

The dispensary was warm and inviting, decorated with tasteful holiday garlands. Sheila scanned the shelves, feeling oddly liberated. She selected a pre-rolled joint labeled “Berry Bliss”—the name alone sounded like exactly what she needed.

Back in her car, she entered the address of her favorite Italian restaurant. No more chasing impossible gifts for impossible people. Tonight, she was reclaiming Christmas for herself.

Twenty minutes later, Sheila walked out with her linguini bolognese and garlic bread. The intoxicating aroma filled the car as she made her way home.

When she reached the driveway, she didn’t go inside. Instead, she carried her treasures to the back of their property, where the greenbelt provided a quiet, private space.

The old picnic table sat beneath a canopy of trees, the perfect sanctuary. Sheila settled down, pulling her coat tight against the chill.

She lit the joint, the tip glowing softly in the dim light. The first puff was tentative, but as the smoke filled her lungs, a sense of calm washed over her. The flavor lingered, sweet and fruity. She exhaled, watching the puffy white clouds dissipate into the night air.

Reaching into the takeout bag, she pulled out her pasta. Each bite was a revelation—creamy, garlicky, and utterly indulgent. She ate slowly, savoring every morsel.

For the first time in weeks, Sheila felt like herself again.

As she sat there, Sheila pulled out her phone. Instead of braving crowded stores and long lines, she browsed Etsy. The options were endless—handmade scarves, custom candles, unique books—all available with a few taps.

Sheila chuckled to herself. This might just become her new Christmas shopping ritual: a little smoke, a little pasta, and a lot less stress.

She placed her orders and leaned back, letting the peaceful silence envelop her.

An hour later, Sheila’s phone buzzed with a notification: the Taco Bell delivery had arrived. She stood, brushing crumbs off her lap, and made her way back to the house.

Inside, Steve and Jeff were sprawled on the couch, laughing over an old Christmas movie. The smell of fast food filled the living room.

“Food’s here,” Sheila announced, dropping the bag on the coffee table.

Steve looked up, his eyes glassy but full of affection. “You’re the best, babe.”

Sheila smiled. “I know.”

As she headed upstairs to take a hot bath, Sheila felt lighter than she had in years.

Here’s to enjoying the holidays as much as she worked hard for others to enjoy them.