Flash Fiction by Elizabeth Jurado

Holidays at the Gonzalezes’ were a mix of comedy and drama. My family celebrated the holidays in an elaborate style; like most families, we kept up with the Joneses, I suspect. As with most families, there was always some drama simmering and a lot of comedy. As I got older, I could see more and more of the drama in our Cuban family holiday productions. I lived blissfully as a small child, looking forward to presents and sweets. But in my early teens, I realized things were not as blissful as the magazine-cover families were portrayed. It got real when the aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, and grandparents gathered in one house. Often, a slow simmer would turn into a boil-over, and I don’t mean only in the kitchen!

Personality clashes and old beefs always seem to rear their ugly heads as the day goes on, and liquor gets involved.

My mother had a hot temper, lived on shots of Cuban espresso, and was highly anxious. The family pushed her too far one Christmas, and the roast pig literally flew off the table, flung there with all its trimmings.

The good memories were of Santa Claus coming up the fire escape (my father in a costume) into a room full of kids giggling with excitement. Our eyes were wide open, our bellies were full of delicious food, and our hearts were full of joy. Presents were stacked almost as high as the tree’s top.

My holidays are peaceful and calm now. I live in Florida and celebrate with friends, while the rest of my second- and third-generation family lives in Buffalo, New York. They are making their own memories. Hopefully, peaceful ones.

Text © Elizabeth Jurado