The First Pile
December 4, 2000
7:19 a.m.
I think "Ghandi" is a short story. At least for now. I cut the bottom half of it, and I'm trying again in a different direction.   "How much do I get?" Brigid said, standing there in the living room with an expectant look on her face. She had earlier pronounced that she wanted to do her own Christmas shopping for Lisa and I. She proposed us giving her cash, and then letting her loose. "For me?" I said, "You get several hundred dollars. What are you going to get me?" "Daddy." She stared with those cold 12-year-old eyes. In the end we settled on a value, and went to the store. Lisa and I did our thing, Brigid went off and did hers. We would see her around, checking things out, walking in the center aisle. She pulled me aside once and asked to go over her budget. We met for a snack. Cookies for Brigid and I, a pretzel for Lisa. We made headway. Dinner came later. The next day, Sunday, we put up the tree. Admittedly I was being a little grinchy (for a ton of reasons, I suppose, but none of them any good). Once it was up, Brigid ran upstairs with tape and scissors. A half hour later she christened the tree with its first presents. I gave her as big a hug as I could muster. This was one of those moments, you know? A milestone. Her first set of store-bought presents where no one but her knows what they are. She was pleased with herself. "Better show Mama," I said. And as she ran off, I looked at the tree in the darkness, blue lights gleaming, and a pile of presents underneath. Have a great day.  Started your X-Mas shopping, yet? Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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