Susan Spess Shay

Still playing make believe.


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Make Me Cry

I know, it’s not hard to make me cry. Sometimes I think I’m a rainstorm, looking for a place to happen. I found that place Christmas day. 🙂

A few weeks ago, I looked out the front door of our office and I saw it. There, katty corner across the street, in front of Nick Nack Memories (one of two fantastic antique-y shops here in C-Town) sat the trunk of my dreams.

Who sits around dreaming about trunks? Me!

Without telling anyone where I was going, I rushed over. It was old. And gorgeous! I looked inside  and (gasp!) the tray was there. Since I’ve never found a trunk with a tray, I was thrilled. AND the paper that lined the trunk was just practically perfect.

I LOVED IT!

When I asked the woman who finds all the treasures for the shop how much, she gave me a very reasonable price. Oh, I wanted that trunk! I’ve wanted one just like that for years, but somehow, I’ve never found one.

But Christmas was just a few weeks away, and I hadn’t finished my Christmas shopping. I just couldn’t justify buying myself the trunk, no matter how badly I wanted it.

By the next day, though, I could justify it. After all, I’d looked for it for years. And the price wasn’t just reasonable, it was fantastic. So back across the street I went, check book in hand.

It wasn’t out front, but the owner rarely puts the same thing out two days in a row. I went inside, but didn’t see it. Oh, no. “Did you sell the trunk I liked?”

The woman nodded happily. “Yes, I did.”

Okay, I get retail. You have to turn your stock–sell it and get in more–to make a living. But did she have to sell my trunk? And so quickly???

I was unhappy, upset and just a little bit mad about it. “That’s awful! I just can’t believe it. I hope their check bounces!!!”

I wanted her to repossess the trunk so I could buy it, but I’m not sure I said that out loud.

Now fast forward to Christmas. Christmas Eve was a little quiet–if a place can be quiet when my number one son is present. 🙂 Unlike past Eves, only #1 son, DIL#1, G-Man and I were here. The next morning (when we usually open our gifts) #1 and #3 and their women were here.

I got exactly what I wanted for the big day. Pictures of my family through the years, some framed and others ready to frame from Danny and China. (I’ll post some of them for you later.)

Crocks from Bradley and Nicole. (I have a thing for crocks, too.)

A Martha Stewart craft cabinet from my man. (Mine is picket fence white.)

And G-Man gave me two books I picked out. One’s a romance by Rachel Gibson. The other one is called, “How Not to Look Old!” (I can’t wait to learn everything that’s in there.)

Then, finally, Matt and Nikki showed up. They opened gifts to catch up with the rest of us, then handed me a present. A pretty box, wrapped up and tied with a gorgeous bow. So I opened it, and it was stuffed with tissue paper. When I moved all the tissue paper, I found a red envelope.

The Christmas card inside said, “You might want to go to the front porch to see your present.”

What can it be? I wondered. A car is a little too expensive for a Christmas gift–at least one I didn’t pick out. 🙂 Rather than guess, I headed for the porch.

There, next to my planter, was a humongus red bow.

And under that bow was my trunk. The trunk from Nick Nack Memories. The trunk I wanted before Christmas. The trunk I wanted the Memory lady to repossess. 😉

Okay, since then I changed my mind.

I know this will shock you, but for the second time that morning, I cried. (Boo-hooed over my pictures, too.)

Apparently, when I came back from meeting my trunk that day, I told DIL#2 where I’d been and she, with a little help from Omega (Thanks, Amy!) took it from there.

I had my whole family together for Christmas, so I got everything my heart desired. Wonderful things, no matter how old and wonderful, like antique trunks, are only temporary. Family is eternal.

I know it’s hard for a lot of people, but I’d love it if you’d post a comment and tell me what you got for Christmas that made you cry. Okay–that would have made me cry.