December 7: Bereft, Sleepover, P.O.E.T.S. Wish

…A pale light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and on it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was the body of a man.

Not a very happy moment in A Christmas Carol. But it’s not supposed to be. Scrooge is witnessing the results of a lifetime of greed and cruelty and thrift. It ain’t purty, that’s for sure. Nobody cares whether the dead man on the bed is dressed or naked, tended by mourners or eaten by rats. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is pulling out all the stops at this point in the narrative.

There’s a part of me that feels compassion for Scrooge. I mean, he had a crappy childhood; he drove away the one woman who loved him; he’s emotionally bereft, unwatched, unwept, and uncared for. Of course, he’s the cause of most of his problems, but I still feel sorry for the poor bastard.

My daughter’s birthday sleepover is tonight. So far, we have only one girl definitely coming. We have one I-don’t-think-so girl and two I-have-to-check-with-my-mom girls. Last night while we were watching TV, my daughter looked at me and said, “What if nobody comes to my sleepover?” I wanted to pick her up and hold her and hug her like I used to when she was three. I didn’t do that. I smiled at her and said, “Sweetie, we’re going to have a great time whether you have one friend here, three friends, or no friends. We’re going to go to a movie and get popcorn, and then we’re going to come home and have pizza. It’s going to be great.”

That’s what I said. What I was thinking was, “I don’t want to see my little girl hurt and upset because she thinks her friends don’t care about her.” And, “What kind of ingrates does my daughter hang out with?” And, “How much is this going to cost me in therapy later on?” And, “Please, God, let these other girls come through for my daughter.” Pretty much, I was all over the place.

My daughter is not Ebenezer Scrooge. She gets along with everybody. She’s kind to everybody. Sure, she has the normal tweenage girl fits and tantrums, but she really cares about her friends. I don’t want her disappointed and sad tonight. I want her to laugh and giggle and dance and celebrate at her twelfth birthday party.

That’s Saint Marty’s P.O.E.T.S. Day wish.



This sleepover doesn't look like too much fun