I started pulling out the stockings, one by one -- the coordinating ones my sister & I have had since we were babies, made for us by a neighbour of my grandmother's (green for me, red for her); the ones we bought as university students to fill for our parents; the ones we bought a year or two later for our grandparents (dead these 20+ years); the one Parents' Neighbours' Daughter has opened at our house since she was a little girl; the ones added over the years for her now-husband & two daughters (the Little Princesses).
At the very bottom of the box -- a ghost from my past: a red stocking with a puppy on it, and a name written in glitter: "BRAD."
I hadn't thought of it since the last time I saw it, this time last year -- and whenever I see it, I'm never sure if I want to wince, roll my eyes, or cry.
Who is Brad, you might ask?
Back around the time dh & I got married, maybe even before, we were having a conversation about names -- presumably for our hypothetical future children. Katie was always a favourite for a girl's name, of course. For boys, Michael was always at the top of my list, and I mentioned a few others that I liked -- including Bruce (after dh's hero, Bruce Springsteen), and Brad.
I was immediately subjected to hoots & scoffs from dh, my sister & others in on the conversation. "Brad??!" (This is why I never liked discussing anything related to the possibility of future children, even way back then...!) I had to admit it was a pretty stereotypically preppy, whitebread kind of name. My husband told his very Italian brother that I liked it; BIL said, "Sure, and I'll get little Rocco & Enzo to beat him up," lol. (He was not married at the time but, for the record, he did go on to have two sons -- albeit their names are NOT Rocco & Enzo!)
That first Christmas we were married, I opened up a box that was a joint gift for me & dh from Santa. In it was a stocking -- THE stocking -- "Brad's" stocking. Of course there was much laughter from the rest of the family as I pulled it out of the box. I was furious, as I always was whenever anyone made any kind of presumptive comments or hints or jokes about our future family plans. (I'm reminded of the small yellow candle -- along with one pink and one blue candle -- that dh's relatives put on a cake to welcome us home from our honeymoon, which reduced me to silent fury as everyone around us laughed & nudged each other, and dh quietly pleaded in my ear to smile, for pete's sake, it was only a joke.)(Maybe it was an omen of some kind?)
Anyway, the stocking wound up at the bottom of the stocking box, where it's remained for 35 Christmases now. I'm not sure why. I knew with certainty that, should we ever have need for another stocking, it would definitely NOT be for anyone named Brad...!
Of course, sadly, there never was need for another stocking. I did find small quilted stockings with a Classic Pooh design on them and bought one each for me & my mother; they both hang on each of our Christmas trees every year. I also have a supply of miniature red felt stockings, and I take one every year to the cemetery at Christmastime to hang at Katie's niche. I reuse the stocking from year to year, but whenever it gets too faded and weather-worn, I replace it with another from my stash.
Sometime in the future, someone is going to look in that box of stockings and wonder "Who is/was Brad?" I thought about taking it and stashing it in my box of Katie's things. (I also thought about throwing it out wholesale, but I don't think I could ever bring myself to do that, despite the very mixed emotions it brings out in me.)
I thought maybe I should blog about it -- so here's my post. :) I also thought about taking a photo of it to go with this post ;) -- but I didn't want anyone to see me do it. Alas, the box went back into the crawl space before I got the opportunity. Maybe next year.
You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here.
So funny how things unearthed from boxes can bring back such vivid memories. I've known some very lovely people named "Brad," for what it's worth! Those presumptive gifts are so weird -- perhaps meant well, but so complicated. My sister once gave us a hand knit baby blanket for our first Christmas after a year of infertility treatments... It got shoved in a drawer somewhere and then donated with the rest of our nursery stuff. It was NOT a welcome gift, although well meaning.
ReplyDeleteIt must have been hard to process all those feelings when the Brad stocking resurfaced, and to hang on to them until you could blog about it. ❤️
If I were you I'd throw it out. It doesn't bring back happy memories, and you've written about it here to save it for posterity. But it's easy for me to say.
ReplyDeleteWe are so much the same in many ways. Like you, I bristled at people's assumptions about my future life. One of my nieces was two weeks old at our wedding, and my sister - six years older, and someone who loves to needle me - insisted on putting the baby in my arms. As you can imagine, all the comments ensued, reducing me too to not quite silent fury, as I insisted "not for ten years." Not for ever, as it turned out.
Sending hugs.
That's such a complicated, tough thing - I'm so sorry you had to deal with it.
ReplyDeleteThe cake that you got coming home from your honeymoon...my jaw just literally dropped. And, of course, the stocking. Why, oh, why do people do this?! I got married in 2005 and within a year or so, people were talking about how we would have babies soon/asking me if I was pregnant. Speaking to more recently coupled/married acquaintances, most of them have gotten this too. Sigh.