This past week I took a writing class with a writer and an editor. She’s got an amazing gift of interpretation of what we wrote. Every time I take one of her classes she teaches me so much about...
This past week I took a writing class with a writer and an editor. She’s got an amazing gift of interpretation of what we wrote. Every time I take one of her classes she teaches me so much about writing. Here is one of the pieces I wrote on Christmas.
As a child I longed to feel like I belonged and feel that love that I saw my siblings getting. I wanted to feel that excitement like they did on Christmas morning. I do remember getting a Selection box full of chocolate goodies and a Christmas orange in my stocking. Those times were great because I was part of my family.
The hardest part of that though was when I wanted that every Christmas, but for some reason now I didn’t get anything. What a feeling that is to watch your siblings get Christmas gifts and you didn’t get anything. You feel so alone, so unloved, so crushed. All you wished for was one single gift.
Christmas time growing up in Ireland was hard. Then moving to Canada Christmases were great and I felt that love and part of a family. My wish had come true. It was a simple wish. A child’s simple wish.