The past two summers, I challenged some of my students to help me with some columns over the break. They gave me the first and last lines of a potential fictional short story. My task was to take those lines and write the middle. It was a lot of fun, so I’ve asked my students to help me again. This week’s inspiration was provided by Bryce Mudgett.
It was a normal summer day and I was eating the bark off a tree, because, you know, sometimes when you’re five years old, that seems perfectly normal. Even with the peanut butter I had smuggled out the house, the taste wasn’t exactly restaurant quality. For some reason, I thought the combination might be similar to my favorite type of candy, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Um, no.
Perhaps I needed to wait for the bark to harden. After all, during the summer, it was rather soft and squooshy. Don’t worry, I had gotten the bugs off before trying to eat it. That would just be gross.
I peeled some more of the bark, put it in a paper bag, and tucked it under my bed for safe-keeping. I wasn’t sure how long I should keep it there, but was confident I would not forget about it.
And then I forgot about it.
To be honest, it was a pretty crazy fall. I started kindergarten and so my time was taken up by riding school buses, doing art projects, and learning to write words and sentences that made sense, even if my spelling wasn’t always great. My teacher was pretty nice, but she wasn’t afraid to issue a philippic to the class when our work didn’t measure up to her standards. That wasn’t often, but I know I set one off when I didn’t spell my own name right on a paper. Hey, you try spelling Alfredo right every time!
My two older sisters made sure I always got on and off the bus okay, so there wasn’t any drama in that regard. They were in third and fifth grade, and I didn’t see them much during the school day since their classrooms were in a whole different part of the building. Sometimes we’d run across each other on our way to the gym or music room or recess. Gina, the one in fifth grade, came to the nurse’s office one time when I’d gotten a bloody nose on the playground. Alyssa, my other sister, said she would’ve come too but she had a test. (I think she would’ve been grossed out by the blood.)
So school was good, but I was pretty tired those first few weeks. All that work takes a lot out of a kid! Gradually, though, I got used to the routines we had. Some days were more fun than others, like our awesome Halloween party with costumes, games, and candy. We also put on a skit before Thanksgiving and I got to dress up as a pilgrim. But I was most looking forward to what we’d do for Christmas.
Until I didn’t care anymore. Looking back on this 25 years later, I can pinpoint a lot of great memories from the start of that school year, but one terrible one that impacted the rest of my life. A week before Christmas, my mom got in a car accident on her way home from work. She never did make it home; she was pronounced dead at the scene.
And just like that, Christmas didn’t seem so important anymore. We had a funeral two days before the holiday, but my sisters and I weren’t in school the whole week. There were so many people that came to our house, and I don’t think my dad could have made it through without all those hotdishes and bars those folks brought over. We also got really nice, homemade cards from all our classmates.
Two days after the funeral was Christmas. Dad really tried to put on a brave face, but we knew he wasn’t ready for something like this. We saw him wandering around the house, searching in closets. Gina figured out that he was trying to find presents Mom had already bought and wrapped before she died. My heart lightened a bit at the idea of presents, but I hadn’t even noticed that Santa hadn’t brought anything the night before until then.
I ran to my room, shut the door, and sat on my bed, crying. Mom had left us and now Santa didn’t even show up? I stifled a sob when I heard my dad knock on my door. He came in, sat down, and just wrapped me in a hug, apologizing for a terrible Christmas. I told him I didn’t care. Then he said he’d try to figure out something good to make for supper.
As he left, I realized how hungry I was. Suddenly, the bark I had forgotten about came to mind. Surely, it must be dried out by now! I hopped to the floor and lifted up my bed covers that had fallen over the side. As I reached in for the bag of bark, my hand touched something else. I peered under the bed and saw a bevy of presents, all wrapped and ready to be opened! Mom had hidden them in a place she knew I’d never look!
As I screeched in joy, my dad came running, along with Gina and Alyssa. Their eyes opened wide upon seeing the sight of gifts strewn across my floor. The mood lightened, knowing Mom was truly looking down on us now. That’s how I saved Christmas!
Word of the Week: This week’s word is philippic, which means a bitter condemnation, usually in a speech, as in, “The philippic given by the coach about the foolishness in vaping was heard loud and clear.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!