My Christmas Story

12/25/2022,

My first entry in a new journal. I shall name it Bob. Which will be short for Robert Bobbert of Bobbingham the first.

Today is Christmas again. I can't remember the last time I celebrated it. I've been orphaned since five and haven't had a real one since. I'm sorry Bob, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is William Spurn, most of the kids just call me Will so I guess you can too.

You want to know how was I orphaned, Bob? Simple. My father abandoned my mother, so my mother abandoned me. She left me in the house and said she would be back soon. A week later some snoopy neighbors came by to see why she wasn't home and saw me inside. The cops were called and I was put into an orphanage.

It's not complicated, I'm just not wanted. 

You might be wondering about my current state so I'll enlighten you. I'm fifteen years old. I used to be in the foster system, but the families I was with disliked me, and some are now restricted from caring for foster kids because of slightly complicated and criminal reasons. This year my mother finally stated what I knew all along, she didn't want me or anything to do with me. 

I'll tell you little bit about the guardians too, Bob, then I'll get back to me. My parents were quickly found after the abandonment and Sharon, my biological mother, was put in prison. For some reason or another, maybe she thought it would get her out sooner, she always played the repentance card and said she wanted a second chance. Isn't that a laugh Bob?

Tony, the father, was technically blameless. He didn't hurt me or Sharon he just left the house with both of us in it. I can't say I blame him, Sharon obviously wasn't the loving type. Anyway, I still had a caretaker and Sharon was not restricted in any way. He didn't even take anything that didn't belong to him. All the same, once the police got ahold of him, he refused to take me, he just gave me up.

Alrighty Bob, It's finally time to get back to me. Right now I'm just walking down the streets of New York City trying to see what Christmas is really about. I'm not actually allowed to be out here but I snuck out to have a look. It wasn't hard, I've done it before.

I guess I should just write what I observe. The lights are bright and skillfully strung, I hear carolers singing "Have A Holly Jolly Christmas" in the distance, I see a few people giving friends gifts on the square, and families having dinner in some of the nicer restaurants. I can smell wonderful pastries and treats being cooked in a nearby bakery, I feel the snow gently resting on my gloveless hands.

Is that it? Can this really be all that it's about? The most beloved season of the year is about getting, giving, eating, and singing. That can't be all, it's not possible, there must be more.

I saw a homeless man sitting beside a building with a sign. I suppose he wanted to get in a little more time before heading into the shelter. I gave him my warm bun that was supposed to be my bedtime snack. He smiled brightly at me and held it gleefully in his pale hands. I was filled with a seemingly pure and inocent joy at seeing another happy at my expense, but why? It made no sense.

It has gotten far too cold out here. I suppose I should take a break from my walk and warm up. I can hear some gentle singing coming from one of the big churches down the street. I bet it's warm in there. I'll go sit down for a while and listen, maybe it'll be interesting, and maybe I'll find something out about Christmas or that weird feeling I got when I gave away my warm bun.

 ~ Your Owner, William Spurn