Letters to your great grandmother

 Dear Mom, This is Kathy and I have a memory story for you from my life that I am sure you never knew.  I call it "My Life as a Brown Bunny"  I hope it makes you smile.

    I have always been a person who embraced life with great exuberance and gusto.  Life was a daily mystery with strange and delightful twists and turns.  My world was a safe place where strangers smiled at children, neighbors knew your name, and it was safe to play outside till the street light went on.  Life was simple and pleasant.

   I loved kindergarten because you could color, cut with scissors, play with other children and sing.  I loved to sing and what I lacked in musical ability I made up for in volume.  I was thrilled to find out that my class would be able to sing two songs in my school's Christmas program. We practiced our two songs for weeks before the performance.  I knew those songs backward and forwards!  I could sing louder and longer than all my friends.  Imagine my surprise and delight to be singled out with four of my peers for a special assignment the day before our big day.  My teacher called the five of us over and explained that life was composed of "White Bunnies and Brown Bunnies".  "White bunnies," she said, "get up on the stage and sing, but brown bunnies are special!  "Brown bunnies get to act!"  Did she say act?

      A star was born instantly that day.  I had grand dreams of being a dancing snowflake or prancing elf.  My teacher had chosen me!  My parents would be so proud!  My sister would be envious of my success.  We all eagerly awaited our new assignments with breathless anticipation.

    "Tomorrow night," she said, "While all the other white bunnies are singing I want you brown bunnies to act like you are singing but don't utter a sound.  It's our secret, so don't tell the white bunnies or your parents. Let's see if anyone notices. "

    

 The night of our school's Christmas program came and went.  My class performed Jingle Bells and one more song.  The white bunnies sang and the brown bunnies acted our little hearts out.  The five of us became opera soloists without ever uttering one note.  Pavarotti could have learned from our performance.  We opened our mouth wide, gestured frantically, and swayed with the music.  We threw ourselves into our roles and for that brief moment, we were stars.

   

 Later that night my older sister, who I adored, asked me why I was swaying and jumping around the stage looking like a wide mouth bass out of water?  I proudly told her my secret...I was special, I was a brown bunny with acting abilities. 

   

 Had she been older and wiser, perhaps she might have let me have my moment of stardom, but  reality is cruel, and she told me that brown bunnies can't sing and my teacher didn't want us to drown out the other kids.

  

So I spent most of my life knowing that I am a Brown Bunny.  Brown bunnies don't sing, Brown bunnies don't dance, Brown bunnies......(you fill in the blanks.)  I have lived my life with the brown bunny mentality.  I've finally decided that brown bunnies are special.  We have a rare ability to not take life so seriously.  We sing off-key, we dance to the music in our head, we laugh inappropriately, we love intensely, we celebrate each day and each moment. 

Little did I know that my kindergarten teacher gave me a great gift.

Letters to great grandmother

 

Dear Mom,  This is your adorable daughter Kathy, who lives in Tennessee writing you a memory from my childhood that you may not remember.  I hope it brings you joy and lets you know how very much you are loved and cherished.  Charlie (my husband) and I pray for you every single day and are so happy that you are well.

It was the best Christmas, it was the worst Christmas.  It is the one Christmas I will never forget.  I was a spoiled princess.  I had never gone hungry or lacked anything.  When I wanted a particular toy or object I usually got it.  I may have had to wait till my birthday or Christmas but whatever I asked for would "magically" appear.

   The Christmas I was 11 and Bobbie was 14 we were told that Christmas would be very lean as we needed to replace the family car.  You and Dad had long ago revealed Santa's real identity so you both felt like we could reasonably be included in this family decision.

    Christmas at our house was always very lavish...lots of presents, toys, games and new clothes.  So even though you both had announced not to expect any presents other than what the aunts, uncles, and grandparents sent, we really didn't believe it.

    One reason we didn't believe that there would be no Christmas was the mysterious noises, whispers, paper rustling, and frantic cries of "Don't come in here right now!"  After all, we reasoned, neither of us could drive...so a new car was not a family gift if only our parents could take it for a spin. We also thought you were just telling us this just to see the joy on our little faces come Christmas morning when, "Surprise, Santa came after all."

    "They really wouldn't really cancel Christmas," my big sister assured me.  Christmas morning arrived in our household, no one was allowed in the living room until Dad went in and turned on the Christmas tree lights.  We had sliding "Pocket Doors" leading into the living room from the hallway that was closed on Christmas Eve.

    You, Mom, turned to us in the hallway and said, "Do you want to go open your presents or go sing Merry Christmas to the Car?  What kind of question was this?  Who wants to go sing Merry Christmas to the car?  Let me at those gifts.  "Gifts! Gifts!" we cried in unison.  "Okay, you said and slid open the door, revealing our glorious Christmas tree and gifts...just the way we left it on Christmas Eve.    

    One quick look at the tree was enough to depress this 11-year-old. "Let's go sing to the car, I said, clearly disappointed.  "Oh no," you replied, "Let's go open our gifts.  So we did.  It was disappointing.  It wasn't anything that we wanted and I was totally miserable. "What's that string attached to the tree?"  Near the top branches was a note that read "To the Watson family" and the string led to the new car in the garage.

     "Let's follow the string and go sing Merry Christmas to the car!" you encouraged, knowing how disappointed we were at having no presents.  We went to the garage very begrudgingly only because Dad had on his "You heard your Mother" face, and we knew it was pointless to argue.

      So we opened the garage door and there sat the car.  Our new car, the car that had robbed us of our happy childhood.  The car that neither of us could drive.  I really wanted to kick the tires or spit on the wheels but we were encouraged sweetly by you Mom and also by the stern, threatening look on Dad's face to sing "Merry Christmas to you, Merry Christmas to you, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas to you old stupid car!

    Oh look, you said Mom, "The string is caught in the trunk....maybe we should open it up and look inside."  "I'm going inside," I announced tiredly of the whole let's get a new car for Christmas incident and hoping I was adopted and my real parents might be inside waiting for me with my Christmas presents.)

   "Oh no you don't," Dad said, opening the trunk revealing the entire space filled with gaily colored boxes, packages, dolls, games, stockings, ribbons, and candy.  "Not until you help bring these presents inside."  Presents, gifts, wow! maybe this new car thing wasn't as bad as I originally thought.  My emotions went from sad, angry, and miserable to all smiles, excitement, and total joy.

    Presents, more than I had ever imagined at any Christmas before or since.  Presents, my parents really did love us more than their car after all.  "I told you so,
" Bobbie said to me wiping tears out of her face but not sounding nearly as confident as she wanted me to think.

   So that was our miserable Merry Christmas.  You told us later that was the first time you both had to sneak presents from the house into the trunk instead of the other way around.

    You and Dad really surprised us that Christmas.  Thank you for making our childhood memorable.  We always knew you both loved us and were good providers.  We would always ask Dad where he was going at Christmas time and he would just smile and say, "I'm going to see a man about a horse."  I always wondered what happened to our Christmas pony?

Thank you Momma for your love and prayers.  I hope you enjoyed this story about our most surprising Christmas. Your adorable daughter, Kathy