My Cardboard Balcony

Black Ship by Belinda Roddie A shadowy vessel emerged on our shores seven hours into Christmas morning. From its maw, six pirates disembarked, all burdened with boxes and parcels. We half-expected chests of gold as we watched them hobble onto the sand, but instead, we were greeted with far more appropriate gifts and treats. Fresh, clean fabric for making shirts, furs and pelts for hats and accessories. Crates of chocolate and other sweets from countries we had never heard of. Bells and instruments to play while we sang the carols of our land. And of course, bottle after bottle of fine ale, wine, rum, and mead. We knew that these buccaners had come not to raid but to provide, and we offered them new swords and pistols so that their war on water could be a bit easier to manage. After all, it was Christmas, and even rascals need a break to celebrate. A toast to the rogues of the black ship - just don't get under the mistletoe with any of them.

I got an ornament for Christmas this year, but I never bought a Christmas tree. My mother bought me new socks and a shirt, which I appreciated it, of course. My father didn't show up until after we had eaten dinner, and he was totally baked, of course, and my two brothers got into a shouting match with him because their "good Christian souls" were negatively impacted by his love for weed. And I just dangled my new ornament in front of our obese tabby cat so he could swat at it while the "good will toward men" raged on by the front door.