My worst Christmas ever
Hello, come in and pull up a virtual chair by the virtual fireplace. Help yourself to a cookie (unless you've set your browser not to accept cookies) and prepare yourself for another edition of Flashback Friday.
Christmas morning. Just the very mention of it gives adults images of happy children rushing downstairs to see what awaits them under the tree. Kids wake up with joy overflowing and a bubbly anticipation of what they will soon be unwrapping.
When I was 12, I woke up on Christmas morning bubbly. Very bubbly. So bubbly, in fact, that my entire stomach was churning. And it was excitement either. I rushed downstairs, not to open presents, but to kneel before the largest porcelain article in the house. I knew it was going to be bad, because I flung my glasses aside, so they wouldn't accidentally fall in, and be lost forever.
When I was finished, or so I thought, Mom asked where my glasses were. She said that new glasses weren't one of my presents. After some searching, they were found behind the toilet.
We opened our gifts, and for the life of me, I cannot remember what I got that year. When we finished opening the presents, we made ready to make the trek into Westerville to visit my grandma. I was not looking forward to the trip, seeing that I wasn't feeling good. After two hasty stops, we made it to grandma's.
I loved Christmas at grandma's because she had the coolest Christmas tree that I had ever seen. It was a shiny aluminum tree that had a color wheel that shone on it, turning it from red to green to orange to blue (and them back around and around). This year, even the cool tree couldn't put me in a festive mood.
I laid down for most of the day in grandma's bedroom. A bucket was brought, just in case I needed it. I did several times. It got to the point where mom decided that she needed to take me to the Emergency Room at the nearby hospital.
The doctor told mom that I had picked up some kind of bug, and that I should be OK in 24-48 hours. That was fine for him, but this was Christmas, and I was messing it up for everyone. When we got back to grandma's, we said our goodbyes and headed home. Like the doctor said, I was better in a couple days.
Did you ever have a Christmas where it seemed that nothing went right?
1 comment:
Let's see, would that be the Christmas that Paul and I both had the mumps? Or the one where I had just gotten over the measles and Paul was coming down with them? Or maybe the year that I was on crutches from spraining both ankles at the same time?
Yeah, I've definitely experienced a few not so merry Christmases.
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