Thursday, December 6, 2012

Tis the Season

I used to love this time of year, before I hit the streets. Back when I had a family and a job and my education meant something. My dad went crazy with the decorating and the lights and the dinner that was so large it took a week to polish off the leftovers. We didn't always have a lot of money for presents when I was a kid, but he always made sure that the few I got really meant something. The rest of the family kept trying to win me over with dolls and pretty dresses and other 'girly' things, but Dad always knew better. Sometimes I did get a doll or a stuffed animal or a dress, but only when they were things I actually wanted. He never had to ask me either, he just knew.

I always made him something from scratch in return-handmade paper ornaments and cards as a little kid, then cookies or a painting or a handmade shirt when I got old enough to make useful things. He kept all of them, and those horrible ornaments coated in glitter still held a place of honor on the tree every year up until he died.

It's never really felt like Christmas since. But it's still nice to hear the music everywhere. I just wish this wasn't going to be another Christmas alone on the street.

9 comments:

  1. Slender claws, Slender claws, Slender all the way...

    Hmm... what do you get a loser who has nothing?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I don't know. What would you two like?

      Delete
    2. A dead Duck... Said Duck's cache of supplies... dead Fracture... and a trench coat with velvet red in-lining.

      Delete
    3. Nothing I can help you with, then.

      Delete
  2. Christmas.
    It has been a year already?
    I forgot Christmas was near.
    Why did I forget?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You've been rather busy, I'm sure.

      Delete
    2. Mostly running from place to place.
      The safe houses are not safe.
      Then the fact that people
      do not believe I can deliver.

      I... I admit I have been known
      to have much bark and little bite.

      Delete
    3. Passion... WORDS!

      Things Duckie would say! Insert them here.

      Delete
    4. I'm sure you know what you're doing.

      And Picasso, I don't think you're helping.

      Delete