Christmas means family, so for four years, Ethan, our kids Maddie, 7, and Noah, 5, and I head to the islands to unwind before holiday busyness. This year’s trip was blissful until we got home. Our house was trashed—eggs smeared the walls, shells littered the porch, and my wreath was a gooey ruin. “What’s this?” Ethan said, shocked. Maddie asked, “Mom, why?” I was clueless but furious. We’re great neighbors—I bake for new folks, help with block events, always pitch in. This felt personal, not random. Noah said, “Birds?” I calmed him, but inside, I burned. Someone targeted us, and I needed to know who.
Ethan found a note by the door: “You took something from me.” My mind spun—what could it be? After the kids slept, we watched security footage. A hooded figure threw eggs with purpose. “This is no prank,” Ethan said. “It’s too planned.” Then I saw the figure’s familiar slouch and head tilt. My heart sank—it was it my mom?? The next morning, I confronted her, shaking with anger. “Why, Mom?” I asked. Her smile vanished. “What do you mean?” she said. “You egged our house—I saw you,” I pressed. She looked guilty, then said, “Gloria caused it.” Ethan’s mom had bragged about joining our trip, saying she bonded with the kids, leaving Mom alone in the cold.
“Gloria lied,” I said. “She wasn’t with us. She wanted to hurt you.” Mom sat, stunned. “I felt so forgotten, Ellie,” she said. “I snapped.” Her words hurt—I’d been swamped with work and kids, missing her growing loneliness. Her calls dwindled, her visits stopped, and I hadn’t cared noticed. “That was wrong,” I said, “but I’m sorry for pushing you away.” She cried, offering to fix the mess. “We’ll clean together,” I said, “and rebuild us.” We hugged, cracking years of walls. Mom brought soap and rags, and we cleaned the egg off, each swipe easing our rift. The house felt new again.
That night, over grilled cheese, I told Ethan, “Gloria’s lie started this.” He called her, seeking truth, while I invited Mom for New Year’s. She arrived with cake and a sparkly dress, thrilling the kids. We toasted new starts under fireworks. Later, we met Gloria, who confessed her lie came from holiday isolation. “Why not see Mom?” I asked. She planned a tea party to make amends. Now, our moms are baking buddies, playing mahjong weekly. Eggs make me cringe, but this mess taught me to cherish family ties.
