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|  This is a pretty accurate interpretation of how I feel today...except the sunny background. I couldn't find one that was appropriately cloudy. Anyway.
You know, one of the things I've learned about college is that people will enter and leave your life as they go about their business. It's not like grade school anymore, where you knew everyone and they weren't really likely to leave. But I haven't learned how to stop the hurt when one realizes that someone they thought was a friend has moved on with nary a word of leavetaking. I had a friend, who had a fight with another mutual friend. They were always better friends with each other than with me, but I liked them both and tried to hang out with them both. Well, after a year the first friend made up with the second friend. Great! Wonderful! But now they both ignore me. It's as if I was a surrogate friend and now that they have each other they don't need me anymore. Well...fine. OK. I have other friends. Except that now a third friend doesn't want to hang out with me either. She invited both of them to sing karaoke and completely forgot me. I hate being a disposable friend. So I'm out. No more of those three. But...I still feel like crap about the whole situation.
OK, sorry, I know I'm whining...let me have a chance to do that every once in a while...OK?
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| This is a blog about stories, right? And I
haven't posted any in a while. So just for you guys, a
heartwarming Christmas story about my very own mom and dad.
Once upon a time, when I was 8 or so, the church we
were attending at the time held a Christmas party for the
underprivileged children of the area. My mom volunteered to help
out. So, the day of the party (Christmas Eve), the gifts were all
wrapped and in came the children...but far, far more children than were
expected! Oh noes! They'd gotten a shipment of dolls that
moved and cried, and they had things for some boys, but not
enough. So... Mom and the other volunteers hunted all over the
church to find presents. ANYTHING that could be wrapped that a
child would enjoy, so that none of these kids were left out.
In the end, every child got a toy and all was merry
and bright...for a second. Then Mom noticed a little girl about 5
years old crying bitterly in a corner.
"What's the matter?" She asked. The girl looked up and said sadly, "My dolly's broken..."
The doll, which should have cried and moved and whatnot, didn't
move. It only cried. After an aghast second, Mom went
desperately hunting up and down the church to find anything, just one
more present for a heartbroken girl. However, they were tapped
out. There was just nothing left.
Mom went back to the little girl and sat down beside
her. She said, "You know, sometimes we get given these things for
a reason. This little baby needs your care and love...can you do
that for her?"
The little girl looked up smiling. "I can do
that!" She exclaimed. "I can put her on my breathing
machine with me!"
Mom looked down at her face and at that moment, she
says, she would have done anything in the world that the little girl
asked of her. She said, "You know, that baby needs a cradle, and
it just so happens that I'm married to one of Santa's helpers.
Would you like me to ask him to make her one?." The little girl
smiled and nodded, so my mother found her mother and got the
address.
It so happened that for Christmas that year, I'd
gotten a handmade doll's cradle from the ] minister and his wife.
It was nice, and very pretty...but I didn't have any dolls. I
wasn't a dolly kind of girl. So that night, when she came home
and told my father what she'd done, he shook his head in resignation.
One night in which to paint the cradle in the girl's favorite colors
and put the name on? Well... but in the end, he did it. He
painted the doll's name, Dawn, on there with some flowers and
stuff. It looked great. And the next day, they went to the
girl's little place in the trailer park where she lived.
They knocked...the girl came to the door. My mother
and father were standing out there with the cradle in hand. But
on her face! A look of suspicion! She looked my father up
and down. Now, my father was not a tall man, but he was
certainly no elf. And so my mom had to explain to her that he was
a helper...but NOT an elf! In the end, all was well. The
cradle ended up in the right place for it, the girl was happy even with
her broken doll, and all was well with the world. Until the next
crisis...but that's another story.
THE END.
 | Currently Listening
Fame
By Irene Cara, Michael Gore, Paul McCrane
see related |
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| Follow-up to the last entry--Mom and Joncliff are having an amiable
conversation about the stupidity of the XBox 360. They're sitting
side by side on Mom's bed and just talking...oh, my wacky,
dysfunctional family.
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| Joncliff and Mom had a big fight about Joncliff being so open about his
bisexuality, leaving me to pick up the pieces. They were both
crying and stuff...I sort of managed to talk Joncliff around, but not
Mom. I want so much to help them accept each other, but lately
they're like oil and water...they just can't seem to mix.
I don't know what to do...there's so much friction around here right
now. Not just this, but everything...me not having a job, us both
going to university next fall, Joncliff's adolescence, Mom's menopause,
my adultolescence...it's too much. I feel like I'm the one who
has to mediate it all, and I hate it.
There's just too much stuff going on. Something has to give soon.
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