Christmas >Stocking Hunt >Journal K Hole > Christmas

"Christmas comes this time each year."- The Beach Boys, Little Saint Nick.

Wow. What an amazing quote. It's so true--Christmas really does come this time each year! And you know what that means. Searching your parents house for your sentimental belongings that you haven't been keeping at your house because you aren't sure how long you're going to be living there, you don't have enough space, or both. 

This weekend I was on the hunt for my amazing Christmas stocking that my friend, Lydia, made. I knew it was somewhere at my parents' house because that's where I keep the things I don't need all the time or things I don't need ever and will never use again and should just throw away but I get anxiety thinking about the task of combing through everything deciding what I want to keep and find room for and what is garbage. #resistingadulthood #responsibility #thanksmomanddad

So my stuff is spread out into various places that, unintentionally, correspond to a time in my life. The attic has stuff from when I was a little kid, the basement holds things from my more recent moves of early adulthood. The garage, middle school and high school years. 

Like any normal person, I began my journey by spending an hour and a half with my head in the very first bin of junk I encountered, reminiscing of a time that I kind of remember.  Scrap books, pictures, old ceramics and wood shop projects. Oh, and journals. Lots of journals. The place where one writes about their experiences and feelings, presumably as if no one was reading. Although I found that growing up as a Catholic I wrote sometimes as if maybe someone might be reading. #catholicguilt

So there I stood in the garage of my parents' home as an adult-ish type person reading and reflecting on writings of my 14-year-old self. 

There was a lot that took me back to specific times that I remember well. And also a lot that made me think "Who the f8ck is Billy Joe?". (If you are reading this and you know who that is, please tell me! If you are Billy Joe, I am so sorry you were significant for me to write about in 8th grade but then forgot about you years later.). 

"Me, Myself & I : An Introspective Collection of My Innermost Thoughts and Feelings" was the cover title to one of the journals I came across. I'm pretty sure this book was a gift from my Mom and not something I myself picked out......The first entry that I opened to was a very distinctive memory. But the detail that I documented in my journal was clarity that I've lost over the years. It was an entry from February 10th, 2005. My junior year of high school, 10 years ago. It was a wintery stormy day and every school had a snow day accept Mascenic. We were let out early just after being dumped on with snow. This entry has an extra special sentiment to it, because one of the friends mentioned has since passed away. The entry was as follows:

    "       Thursday                      Feb 10, 2005                                10:03pm

           Today I got into my first  (and hopefully LAST) car accident. I was driving down Greenville Rd. (too fast for road conditions) and I started to lose control. I tried to steer away, but the car seemed to be moving faster in the direction of the telephone pole. It seemed to happen so fast yet I can remember mostly everything that I was thinking. Of course I wasn't thinking " Let off the brake!", I was thinking "Oh my God!". The weight of the car seemed so heavy as it slid across the road and "THUD!" right into the telephone poll outside of Cooper Riggs' house. I can remember looking at the telephone poll before I hit and thinking that I knew I was about to hit it, and I couldn't do anything about it. I was in shock at first, that I had actually done this with my car. I never thought I would be in an accident. And for as hard as I hit I came out with a bruised nose , or sore @ least, bruised chest from the seatbelt, and a burn on my arm from the air bag (which are turquoise with purple stitching).

         So, I can still Hear the sound in my head of when I hit. It was like bumper cars x1000 and there was smoke and air bags. I can still taste the awful smell of the gun powder. The car was still running when I got out. Which I did as fast as I could b.c. I had no clue if it would explode or something...I saw smoke!

         Anyway, my guardian angel, Cory was driving behind me...I got out of my car and walked over to his window, tears welling in my eyes, and Sam handed me her phone. I called mom. Everybody stopped by. First Cory then Christian Lund, Kevin and Joe, then Gina and Diane. When Gina came, you should have seen her. She was crying and she said that she was sorry she didn't wait for me. I told her it was okay (she was coming over my house). Anyway she hugged me really tight for a while. It was nice. 

        I feel so bad about the car though. I mean dad was going to plan this trip to the mountains and now we can't go cuz of money and stuff. I feel sooo horrible. About everything. At least I'm not like disfigured or anything. Thank you, God! I just don't know.   "

I feel like I should note that in retrospect I'm more glad that I was alive and not just "not, like, disfigured".  Also, my "guardian angel", Cory Iodice, has since passed away. We were very close at a certain time in high school. I think of him from time to time and hope he is resting in peace, wherever that may be. 

I did find my stocking, It was in none of those aforementioned places.