Her Christmas Legacy

Someday

I really wondered about my family, though. The more I read my aunt's journal, the more I doubted that word. I had stumbled across a few more snippets of my family's history in her entries. Mainly that she had tried to send letters to my father during his childhood years, but they were always returned unopened. Then one day she actually got a letter back. Unfortunately, it was from my grandmother and not my father. To make matters worse, my grandmother threatened to get the police involved if Georgina didn't stop harassing her family.

Her family.

What was even more surprising than my grandmother's disdainful reaction to Georgina's attempts to connect with her nephew was that my great aunt didn't fight what was a gross overreaction. She certainly lamented that the threat was a bit much, but also didn't suggest that my grandmother's continued barrier between her and Jack was wrong. She instead gave up and never sent a letter again. After that, there was no mention of my family. Instead, it was only about opening up the inn after five years of renovating and working odd jobs in town to pay for it. She'd been a waitress, a house painter, a receptionist, and even a mime. But on April 16, 1979, the Hound and Sparrow Inn opened for business. She named it after nicknames she and my grandfather had for each other, but didn't elaborate more than that. She rarely talked about my grandfather in her journal.

Then, by the time I reached 1983, my father had turned 18. He was an adult and so my great aunt made a plan. One that I hadn't seen play out in her journal yet, but I knew I was only an entry away. If I hadn't fallen asleep with the journal in my hand, I would have found out what became of my father and Gina the night before. Unfortunately, a day of cleaning, cooking, hunting down Gina's handiwork around the inn, and attending a tree lighting ran me down pretty good. Even with my hard, uncomfortable bed on the floor, I still fell asleep with impressive ease.

Thinking I deserved a break after a rough morning, I pushed my actual job aside and opened up the journal.

May 24, 1983

Where do I even start...

I blocked off every day this week, up to Friday at least. I had hoped maybe things would go right and I could stay in the city longer so I could get to know my nephew. Not sure what I was really expecting, though. A fantasy I guess.

It wasn't hard to find when and where the graduation was going to be held. It was in the newspapers, so I just showed up. I didn't expect to be let in since I didn't have a ticket. I wasn't about to ask Norma just so she could tell me no and alert her to my plans.

I instead watched from the fence, looking out over the football field, wondering if I could figure out which of those black hats was Jack. I was there when they called his name and he went up to get his diploma. Some of his friends cheered for him and he waved to the crowd. I'm glad he's a well-liked kid.

When it was over, I clutched my little envelope, uncertain where to go from there. I needed to get to him before Norma found him. He'd go right to her, I felt certain, but I also noticed that a photographer was setting up in a smaller practice field near where I stood. I wandered over and found out they were taking a group picture with everyone holding their diplomas. Parents and family, however, would start making their way into the cafeteria for a reception. I had my chance.

A couple of other family members ignored the directive to go to the cafeteria and also made their way over to the field, hoping to snap their own photos of the fresh graduates. I worried for a moment my plan was ruined, but then I realized Norma would never break a rule. She was told to go inside and that's exactly what she would do.

I stood a good distance away, trying to pinpoint Jack. It wasn't hard. I knew the moment my eyes cast over him he was the spitting image of my brother, Jack's namesake. I fought back the cry in my throat, but then I realized there were mothers there, weepy with trembling lips as they looked over their babies who had all grown up. The pain of seeing my beloved brother's face would not be odd in that company. I allowed a few quivering cries to escape me, but I composed myself by the time the photograph was taken. Then the graduates were sent to their cafeteria one last time.