A Letter From My 9 Year Old Self, At Christmas
Hi Future Me,
It’s almost Christmas. We are on vacation from school. In a few days we will go to Grandma’s house in Springfield and celebrate Christmas Eve. Grandma has a tiny tree on the table like Charlie Brown’s, and there is another tiny tree that’s plaster with tiny plastic birds that light up. They are blue, and there are little caps of snow on the branches of the tree. That one is my favorite, even though all the presents are under the other tree. The car ride is kind of long, I have to pee at least once. Mom complains about her sisters the whole way up. Last year I asked her why we are going if everyone there is so awful and she turned around and screamed, “It’s our obligation!” Then she farted and told me it was my fault because I upset her and also to call it poopie gas.
When we get there I will feel weird at first, like everyone else is part of the bigger family but we are not as good, we are different. I know we are different because we are Jewish but it is more than that. We are different because Mom hates. Dad says we can go to DisneyWorld during Christmas instead of after but that makes Mom mad too, then she says it’s Dad who hates her family.
I bet you don’t talk to her at all. I mean, I hope you don’t. I mean you don’t have to! I hope you don’t ever have any obligations.
