Some Typos have been chaned, and I fixed up the last paragraph to be more coherent...(well I think I did, how about you)
OK, so my last story was not so well planned...
this is different however... totally different genre...
Bawl your eyes out (I know I did while writing)
or Laugh your heads off at my mistakes....
I tried really hard to do the american MOMMY thing...
I have no idea if cherries grow in kansas or not... if not tell me and i might change it (if i feel like it later, but it is my favorite jam)
comments:
sendit2helena@hotmail.com
December 25, 2006
To the readers of Charlotte Elizabeth Kent’s Diary,
I don’t know your names, but I know your name is not Diary, nor is it Journal… nor log… so, this address will do…,
Well… It’s officially one of my worst Christmases ever. This can be scientifically measured by comparing my gifts. So we must start with a list, right? Or you cannot compare…
Gamalee (baby talk for Grandma Lane)
Dad says it’s the thought that counts… and Gamalee obviously cares a great deal as she spends so much of her time shopping for us… But I know he only tries to put a positive spin on something which obviously has no other explanation for the useless items, rapped up in the most expensive papers money can buy.
I got the:
- Oxford dictionary of Painting and Artists (I cannot paint, am a total clutz… and for heaven’s sake she gave me the same book last year, and for my birthday the year before it was the Cambridge Dictionary of Art)
- This Diary (ok, so I am using it)
- Two copies of the same CD (rapped separately, with two different price tags still attached)… I haven’t listened to them yet, so I cannot tell if they are good.
- And some stocks and bonds in some mining company. Dad says not to complain about them, they are worth thousands… and what with dividends and market value, etc, in 5 years when I’m old enough to sell them, they should pay for college… and the yearly dividends will let me buy some really neat stuff, so no need for a summer job etc. "BUT DAD, I said, hasn’t she seen my save the rainforest T-shirts… and I thought I made it pretty frank, when I wore the Green-Peace T-shirt to lunch today"… He didn’t have a reply for that one…
Aunt Lucy:
Some movie vouchers, and gift certificates… must have taken a whole ten minutes to decide on, and purchase… online.
Grampus (Grandpa Sam)
A card via the post, with an I.O.U one Christmas lunch, one Christmas present, and a “Great big hug”… “Sorry Charlie, cant make it this year… lots of work to do… etc., Like the pens they gave me at the conference?” I … I mean “Superman” could have easily flown to NY and then posted a card, he is also not below “borrowing” pens… … it takes more to fool a Kent!!!
OK
Now I’m cool, calm and collected… lets finish why this year was the WORST CHRISTMAS EVER
Mom and Dad:
OK, so they gave me some nice jewellery… which would be good, except I don’t really ware any… but it was tasteful, and worth a lot really, and if I did ever go out somewhere nice, would look great on me…
But the stuff is too good… know what I mean? If anything happened to the bracelet I was given, my life would not be worth living…
The Bracelet came with a matching pendant… another priceless item…
The story goes, I was left them an old neighbour of ours who died years ago (Bertha Avery). Mom says she was the kindest old lady, and that she was honoured that I was named after her…. And so, as she had no children, left me her only valuable jewellery… Apparently, most of her stuff went to charity, but “Heirlooms must stay in the family”… and now they are mine.
G+P Kent
Made all of us home-made hampers…
Filled with… lollies, chocolates, but more importantly a year (more like month’s) supply of grammar-mama’s (Martha’s) best Cherry Jam…
Food’s great and all (I cant live without that cherry jam), but it doesn’t last… unfortunately Gamma can't knit anymore, what with arthritis, and so my one Christmas staple, the one pressy I always looked forward to, reliable as ever, a GRAMASCARF… didn’t come this year. I guess this made me more sad than the food. Because I do really like all the things that were in the hamper (pressed flowers from the farm, a lock of my lamby’s wool, and we all got gift certificates too (Jess and Oliver got certificates to Cost-Mart… boys can be so easily pleased…, but at least G+P remembered I prefer Oxfam and other RESPONSIBLE stores which support those less fortunate). Pretty good stuff as there was a lot, and it would have taken a while to prepare, and shop for all the little thins...but the missing scarf thingy made me cry (not in front of them)… I eventually had to tell mom, she pulled it out of me, she really can interrogate someone- no wonder she is the best reporter there is- My mom, the Journo- should really join the CIA… but anyway, she made me tell her… Gamma’s not making the scarf and me crying… it really adds up to… I NEVER GET WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS. STUPID BOOKS ON ART AND STUPID THOUGHTLESS GIFT CERTIFICATES…. WHY DO I NEED JAM, I LIVE IN THE CITY, I CAN BUY JAM SO EASILY… I REALLY WANTED THAT SCARF, MOM. I ALWAYS GET A SCARF FROM GRAMMAMAMA, AND NOW I WILL NEVER GET ONE AGAIN…. [puddle on the page]
After my talk with mom, she left me alone to appreciate, what was it, oh yeah;
“Charlie, you are crying over objects. These may be objects which were enjoyed and are now unattainable, or otherwise they may appear to be objects given with no APPARENT (she emphasised this) thoughts as to what you wanted. But no matter what Charlie, these objects were given to you by people who call themselves family. Baby, I learnt the hard way, family do stick together, no matter what. They may not always be there, they may not always be physically close to you, but there is one certainty to which you can depend when it comes to “family”, “Family” always care for you. They always love you, and always want nothing but the best for you.
“Your gifts from Lucy, and my mother may seem thoughtless dear, but they only wanted your happiness in the end. It’s not their fault they don’t know you that well, is it. Lucy lives in LA, and comes to Metropolis only once a year, at Christmas. You avoid my mother like the plague dear, so you cant blame her if you never talk to her… It was so much easier giving you toys, you know they always complain to me how hard you are to buy for. Did you get your Grampus’ card?”
Hmmm, yeah..
“Well… I know it was lame, but: “WHAT DO YOU GET THE GIRL WHO HAS EVERYTHING?…….. PENACILLIN”… and he gave you a silly pen… but he used to do that to me to…
Sweetie, he did try to be here…”
I didn’t respond to that, how could I tell her I knew it was Dad, I mean Grampus had disappointer her so much in the past…
“It is not the gifts that matter at all at Christmas. It is the people who give them. The gift is a physical symbol that the giver wants to show you their desire to look after you. always. It is a reminder that the giver will always be there, should you ask for anything. That the giver cares for you, loves you, and wants you to be happy and comfortable in a wonderful, joyful, fun life. Lucy wants you to have fun dear, thus… the tickets, that’s all. There was no callousness involved in the present, nor was there indifference…
“IT is NOT the scarf you cry about. That lock of wool from Lamby, is to your gramma a symbol of the scarf she couldn’t make this year… The absence of the scarf, it (now mom starts crying)… it physically symbolises to you a future without your GAMMAMA… and you are not scared of going cold this winter… of not being warm in you GAMMASCARF, you are scared of never being held in her arms again.
“You know, when she first made the scarves, your GRAMMAMA would say to me: Lois, wrap those scarves tight around those children’s necks, please! They are not Kansas Scarves, not GRAMMASCARVES, but Kansas/Gramma hugs in disguise…. I cant hug them every day, Lois’ she would say. ‘but Lois, my babies can wear their GRAMASCARVES. And as such they can wear my hugs all day, everyday…
“From the beginning they were symbols of her love for you baby. I think you know that… and so you must remember, darling, that Gramma will always be there for you, she will always love you… (whispered, while running out of the room crying) I will always love you baby”
\\
It has been half an hour since my talk with mom.
And it doesn’t matter what her intentions were, it doesn’t matter what she said, she didn’t change my mind one bit
This has still been the WORST CHRISTMAS EVER…
NOT
Because of the present thingy… oh no, I believe mom, and I know she is right…
I mean her dad was never there for her at Christmas, but she accepts that he still loves her, so how can I argue with what she believes on that issue… which means that she is right the objects/gifts aren’t what matters… Actually, I have no proof that Dad sent the card not Grampus. And if jumping to conclusions has taught me anything, I have to remember that the simplest explanation is always (9 times out of 10) the correct one. I will forget that Dad even sent the card, and remember to write back to Grampus...
Then why is this the worst Christmas ever…
Because
It is the first Christmas, where I am truly faced with the reality of human mortality…
I know there is a God (otherwise why have Christmas… huh?)
And as such, I know my loved ones will go to Heaven, and not cease to exist… the human soul is eternal, and so is their love for me.
Perhaps "Heaven" is why I never was scared of this before now.
But it is the thought of years and years of missing their hugs
Years and years without any GRAMASCARVES
And years and years without silly pens/ lame-medical jokes
Years and years without Kansas Cherry Jam
It is the first time that I: Charlotte Louise Elizabeth Rachel Kent
Am faced with the reality of death…
And I AM SCARED
BUT for now I am loved…
So I will forget the future (sounds funny huh, don’t think Uncle Perry would like that sentence)…
I will focus on the present… Living in the present gives me pleasure now
because as I grow, I will undoubtedly forget some of my past memories through time…
But if I spend all my time now reminiscing of times gone by,
I will be left with a few very old memories, worn out and altered by the passage of time
I would have closets full of old vinyl records, maybe they might get scratched abit with use...
And never get time to create new memories on CD, or as mp3...
It diesnt matter who sent the card from NY. MOM swears it was Grampus, and it certainly is his writing now i look carefully...
But You, future readers of my diary will be able to read my memories, and can know of the love shared in my home, and my happiness ... It won't be of any interest as a diary if i only cry about lost fun on the farm... you want to read about my days, and weeks, loves, and hates of years to come...
Despite it being the WORST CHRISTMAS EVER
