Christmas Still in the Basement

“Our rockets take you to Mars in under twenty light years!” Jimmy read the blurb about the toy in the packet of cornflakes. “Mom, that’s really cool.”
“It’s not our brand, hon.”
I reached down for the cheap cornflakes and put them in the cart and steered into the canned goods aisle.
I picked up three cans of beans and put them in the cart. It was the only premium brand I could afford since Vic had gone out for the proverbial pack of smokes.
“No, not like that, like this. See, it’s a rocket!” Jimmy balanced the three cans on top of each other.
Just then I spotted Brenda who lived at the end of our road. Hank had already gotten their Frosty the Snowman up on their roof. Our Frosty was just a deflated heap in the basement. I dodged behind a wine display but Brenda saw me.
“Hey, Tammy, how you doing these days? We miss you at coffee mornings.”
“Mmmm, just been so busy you know, what with the Holidays and all.”
Brenda tilted her head to the side, sympathetic expression turned up to ten.
“If you need Hank to put Frosty up for you, just let us know.” She squeezed my arm with her French-manicured hand.
I smiled and headed for the exit.
“How about we use the self-service checkout and play Beeps?”
Jimmy ran towards the checkout.
Outside, snow was falling. The cart skidded over the parking lot. People piled into a Greyhound bus at the station; the bus’s destination: Bozeman, Montana. Long ago I dreamed of herding Mustangs in Montana. I closed my eyes, empty plains stretched before me; thundering hooves shook the ground; my long hair blew free.