THE DAMN CHRISTMAS SPELLING BEE
Most afternoons, around 2:30 p.m., you’ll find me in the elementary school car line. Usually, I’m blasting 90’s retro music in order to drown out the curse words screaming in my head, aimed towards the parents who simply can’t follow the car line rules. Maybe it’s impatience on my part, maybe it’s the fact that the holidays are rolling around and everyone, everywhere, seems to have lost their minds. Who knows?
Yesterday was no different. Destiny Child’s “Say My Name” was playing. I hit every run perfectly, ignoring the suburban in front of me who wouldn’t pull out of the parking lot until the parent had carried on a two-minute conversation with their little darling. Look, I get it. I like to ask my kid how their day was too. Only, I do it while getting the hell out of that black hole and onto the highway. But Beyoncé’s voice was soothing to my soul and I found my blood pressure to be in a stable condition.
As soon as my adorable freckled-face kiddo hopped in and secured her seat belt, the first thing out of my mouth was, “Hey baby, how was your day?” I expected a recount of what she had for lunch, or of who she played with in P.E. But what I wasn’t prepared for were the words, “Mom, I gotta practice for the 5th Grade Christmas Spelling Bee,” to come tumbling out of her mouth hole.
Ohhhh the flashbacks. You see, my kid attends the very same school system, with some of the very same teachers as I did. My parents even went to this school. So, to say that traditions run deep in this southern, small town is an understatement. And the 5th Grade Christmas Spelling Bee is one of many Christmas traditions. Forget the parade, forget the down-town Christmas tree lighting, nothing mattered more to me in December of 1993.
The damned Christmas Spelling Bee. A memory buried so deep in the back of my brain, I had almost forgotten where I stored it. Eleven-year-old Allison might have struggled in math, but spelling words… that’s where I excelled. I owned this. That year, it was mine for the taking.
I remember waking up that morning, not a nerve in sight. My mama pulled my frizzy, curly hair in a side pony tail with a purple scrunchie. My baggy sweatshirt was secured at the hip with a super cool plastic buckle, and my leggings were on point. I was ready.
Fifth graders piled into the library, nervous chatter growing louder amongst us as the principal took her place behind the podium. She rambled on about the rules, something about only having one chance to spell the word correctly and how the winner could even make it to the National Spelling Bee. In my mind, I pictured myself standing in front of the President, spelling words like handkerchief and hieroglyphics with ease. He would give me a standing ovation and probably some type of medal. He might even offer me a job.
I watched as my peers were picked off one by one, cringing as my best friend Brittney missed a word that I could spell in my sleep. “Child’s play,” I had thought.
And then it was my turn. Standing, I smoothed my hands down my sweater, and confidently marched up to the podium. I made eye contact with the librarian, and she smiled at me. Wrapping my little hand around the microphone, I leaned in, stating my name.
“Please spell the word…” Now comes the point in the story where you’re expecting me to say some unimaginatively hard word that I must have missed, in turn crushing my dreams. Well folks, if only that were true. The word that I missed that day, the word that still haunts me, drives me, coaxes me out of bed in the morning was… AUTHOR. I shit you not. Ironic, isn’t it?
When I told my daughter the Christmas Spelling Bee story, we got a good laugh out of it. Her response, “But aren’t you a…” caused us both to giggle all the way home. Later that night, after we had practiced and prepared she told me she hopes she misses the word fashion designer. I might have got a little teary.
Break the Line
by Allison Mullinax
Contemporary Romance
Fiery Seas Everlasting
Coming February 13, 2018
As a pro-fisherman, Benson Howell’s days are spent on murky lake water, reeling in largemouth bass and winning first place trophies. At twenty-nine, life is easy and carefree. His only job is to stay in the top rankings during the fishing circuit, and keep the sponsors happy. That is, until he meets hot tempered, fiery haired Danni-Rose in small-town Alabama. He has never backed down from anything too big to reel in.
Danni-Rose has spent the past six years of her life burying her past. When Benson Howell literally plows his boat right into her life, armed with simmering anger, she fights the current pulling her closer to him. With a past she can’t let go of, and the sexy fisherman breaking down all her walls, Danni-Rose does everything she can to break the line connecting her to Benson.
Will Danni-Rose be able to let go of the past? Can Benson change her mind about him? Or will they both miss the catch of a lifetime?
About the Author:
North Alabama native, Allison Mullinax, grew up in the small lake town of Guntersville, AL. She discovered the escapism and addiction of writing at an early age. Today she remains a lover of reading, all things outdoors, and spending time with her husband and three daughters.
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