Christmas — 1991

My 9th grade (age 14) journal writing, an unremarkable account

Photo by taken from Pexels.com

It was December 24, 1991, Christmas Eve. I was in the car bobbing my head side to side as I listened on my Walkman to the pulsating sound of the drums on my new Tesla tape. “Mom, what time is it?” I asked. “Are we ever going to get there?” We were on our way to a fun evening of partying at my ole relatives’ house.

I started to doze off and then heard the car door open.

“Let’s go, David,” my father repeated a million times.

“I’m comin’!” I shouted.

We knocked on the door twice. “Come on in!” said my loud, obnoxious aunt whose voice I heard in the distance. The four of us went inside: my father, my mother, my brother, and me. My sister would be arriving later with her boyfriend. As we walked up the stairs, we could hear the roaring sounds of my aunts and uncles arguing.

The talking stopped and all of the attention was on us.

“Hi, everyone,” my mother said.

“Hi, Patty and Joe,” said my aunts and uncles.

Kisses were exchanged. I shied away as my fat aunt tried to kiss me. Afterward, my brother and I went and sat in the corner and looked around and noticed my uncles drinking beer and wine. My aunts were shouting…