I Love to Write
Capricorn in Aquarius - Part Two
When I was a little girl, I used to ADORE Christmas and Christmas vacation time. It was presents and Santa Claus cookies, a beautiful tree with several Swedish decorations on it, bright lights everywhere, and singing. This year I hated it. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere, and I was going to miss a great party that I had been looking forward to -
Just yesterday, someone - I don't know who - had come to the door to visit. I was in my room, but I edged open the door and listened. I heard the visitor ask about me and where I was.
"She's in her room, Shari," I heard Mom reply. "She's been a bad girl and she's being punished for it."
I heard Shari gasp, "Oh, dear - I'm so sorry. She should know better than to be bad around Christmastime. She shouldn't expect to get any presents and - "
I slammed my door in anger and wailed my frustration and misery. Why did Mom do that to me, act like I was five years old and say I was "being bad" and treat me like I was kindergarten age to boot?
Sniffling finally, I went into my closet and retrieved the three foot high aluminum tree that Daddy had given me for my first Christmas. It was a silver-blue spruce that you could tell was artificial, but I left the branches in all year around and only decorated it with the blue, silver, and gold gilt chains around Christmastime. I hadn't put it up for a number of years, but I needed something too do with my time and -
Daddy came in a little while later while I was on my knees, adjusting the chains around the small tree. He stood over me for a few minutes. I didn't look up.
"You know, Merry," he said finally, "that was wrong of you to act like you did. Our visitor was quite embarrassed over your behavior. She just left and - "
"But, Daddy, Mom said - "
"I heard. I know what she said. I told her that was inappropriate to tell everyone she knows about your being punished. You don't have to stay up here, but your eyes are a swollen as a warthog's. You don't need to cry all the time. And when you DO come downstairs, be pleasant to your mother and me. It IS Christmas - "
I looked up, tears swimming in my eyes again. Daddy turned to leave. At the door, he said to me, sternly and in a louder voice - Mom was probably somewhere around and listening. " - and we DON'T slam doors around here. The next time you do it during your punishment, I'm going to lock you in your room!"
He left without a further word.
(To Be Continued.)
When I was a little girl, I used to ADORE Christmas and Christmas vacation time. It was presents and Santa Claus cookies, a beautiful tree with several Swedish decorations on it, bright lights everywhere, and singing. This year I hated it. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere, and I was going to miss a great party that I had been looking forward to -
Just yesterday, someone - I don't know who - had come to the door to visit. I was in my room, but I edged open the door and listened. I heard the visitor ask about me and where I was.
"She's in her room, Shari," I heard Mom reply. "She's been a bad girl and she's being punished for it."
I heard Shari gasp, "Oh, dear - I'm so sorry. She should know better than to be bad around Christmastime. She shouldn't expect to get any presents and - "
I slammed my door in anger and wailed my frustration and misery. Why did Mom do that to me, act like I was five years old and say I was "being bad" and treat me like I was kindergarten age to boot?
Sniffling finally, I went into my closet and retrieved the three foot high aluminum tree that Daddy had given me for my first Christmas. It was a silver-blue spruce that you could tell was artificial, but I left the branches in all year around and only decorated it with the blue, silver, and gold gilt chains around Christmastime. I hadn't put it up for a number of years, but I needed something too do with my time and -
Daddy came in a little while later while I was on my knees, adjusting the chains around the small tree. He stood over me for a few minutes. I didn't look up.
"You know, Merry," he said finally, "that was wrong of you to act like you did. Our visitor was quite embarrassed over your behavior. She just left and - "
"But, Daddy, Mom said - "
"I heard. I know what she said. I told her that was inappropriate to tell everyone she knows about your being punished. You don't have to stay up here, but your eyes are a swollen as a warthog's. You don't need to cry all the time. And when you DO come downstairs, be pleasant to your mother and me. It IS Christmas - "
I looked up, tears swimming in my eyes again. Daddy turned to leave. At the door, he said to me, sternly and in a louder voice - Mom was probably somewhere around and listening. " - and we DON'T slam doors around here. The next time you do it during your punishment, I'm going to lock you in your room!"
He left without a further word.
(To Be Continued.)
61-69, F