BOXING day. I wake in my mum’s house. Early in the morning she drives me to Fran and Bill’s house. They live halfway between my mum’s house and my foster home. They are best friends with my foster mum and they are celebrating Boxing Day with her.
“Huh,” Mum remarked as we pulled up in the driveway. “Their horse stable is bigger than their own house.” With that bitchy comment she observed that some people see the needs of their horses as important as themselves.
I leave Mum. I travel with Fran and Bill. The presents are piled around the tree and someone has decided it is more important we open presents today rather than on the real Christmas. The regular family is here. So is one of Hazel’s daughters, a woman married to an Army captain.
This year I cannot remember what I get for Christmas. But I remember what I give. I get Amber a case of makeup. I got her mother a packet of Dragon Ball Z collectors cards. My social worker the big, fat hairy man got a case of highlighters. I give my male mentor Baz a big rubber mallet.
“This is just what I needed,” he breathed heavily and waved the rubber mallet around. And I believed him.
I was proud because I truly felt for the first time I gave everyone what they really wanted for Christmas.
I had a gift of doing that, I decided.