Our journeys, if fortunate are long, we may redeem the past many times. Our history isn’t us. Just learn and let it go. We are the present, with new attitudes, personalities, temperaments, emotions and so much more than we were at any past epoch.
The characters and events do not represent any persons living or deceased. It’s easy to see yourself in a story written by a friend or family member. We often feel the minister is preaching to us. Writers only have so much personal experience, they must pilfer your moments, while they eavesdrop.
In a time, past, was Christmas eve,
A tense quietness spread throughout the house,
No one wanted attention not to dare even a mouse,
Dad snoring on the couch, didn’t see our mother leave,
Dad came home two hours late,
Said, “he was drinking at the club with Casey and his son,
He left early, a little before eight,
What the hell he bellowed, I work hard just a little fun,”
Mother said the boys wanted to open just one present,
Dad stared , “every year the same, “NO”,
“We open them Christmas morning, all Santa had sent,”
Mother also was drinking, and said, “Why the hell no, and NO.”
Dad walked to the tree looking at the presents in disgust,
Mother said why are you always like this,
“Open all of them” he shrieked, “IF YOU MUST!”
Then he kicked and broke every toy, not even one did he miss,
The night before Christmas it was very quiet in our house,
Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.
The two boys’ clothes were tattered,
Yes, their hair was long, had Nana brought a toy?
Grandma would fuss, but it hadn’t mattered,
Their smiling dirty faces shinned Christmas joy,
Early the boy walked the cold wood floor,
To the living room, lighting the old ceramic heater,
From the one bedroom the others poured out the door,
Warming hand and feet at their only heater,
Money was short dad said,
Gas went off at night,
The boys saw only the gifts instead,
And the shinning Christmas light,
They played with the few new toys,
Having fun, the two boys,
Dad ask one for some water to drink,
The boy ran quickly to the kitchen sink,
His head swooned, what had this meant,
He gasped at what he eyed,
Back to his brother he went,
Pulling his shirt to show what he spied,
Two beautiful red bikes sat on the floor,
They turned around and dad leaned against the door,
Merry Christmas he said, I sold my car,
but will ride the truck instead.
EPILOG: These two stories have much to teach us beyond the obvious. You see the two boys in both stories were the same boys, just older as was the father. It reveals to us the enormous change possible in who we are and how others, including our families may perceive us. Often family and friends still view us as our past, a sad indictment on love and evolving life. This story reflects the resilience in children. Love does cover a multitude of sin, in us all.
Written by James Kirk-Wiggins (c) 2019, All Rights Reserved