We are getting into the Christmas spirit at our house. In general, I am a very lucky girl and have had mostly blissful holiday seasons; however, life is messy and one or two of those celebrations did not turn out as I had hoped. particularly the Christmas of 1975 which will go down in history as my worst Christmas of all time.
I was seven that year. My family showed restraint when it came to holiday giving, and my brother and I usually received one or two gifts from Santa. This particular year, I opened a jewelry-making kit. I was very excited about this kit. I had circled it in the Sears and Roebuck Catalogue and had written Santa all about it. There it was, right under our tree. My life could not be better!
Hours later, I came down with the worst stomach flu I had ever endured. Even now when I get sick I will often comment, “It was bad, but it was nothing like the flu of ’75.” I was quarantined for several days with a bucket next to my bed. The good news is, I got all the Sprite I could drink, which frankly was not much.
While wracked with pain and stomach spasms, I laid in bed and dreamt about my jewelry-making kit. As soon as I was better, I would design a necklace . . . nooooo, a bracelet. Definitely a bracelet! Thoughts of the joy I would have creating these accessories saw me through the long days of misery.
When I was finally well enough to venture out of my room, I quickly discovered that my brother and cousin had MADE ALL THE JEWELRY in the kit. ALL OF IT! Every single bead had been used.
Decades later, in 2007, I reminded my brother of the Christmas he had stolen from me.
“I never did that,” he claimed. “Why would I make a bunch of jewelry?”
“To torture me while I was at my most vulnerable,” I replied.
Still, he denied it, but I have photographic evidence. I submit to you, my followers, exhibit A . . .
And, exhibit B . . .
I hope they both read this post ’cause they fricken’ OWE ME A BRACELET!