Christmas that year had been sad and disappointing. Sad, because it had been the first one without his mother, and disappointing because his cousin, Fred, in England had promised to ship a copy of the Sex Pistols’ Never Mind The Bollocks and it still hadn’t arrived.
He’d have to hide it when it arrived since his father had become real religious since his mother had been taken. His father had wanted to cancel Christmas, but his aunt had made sure there was food on the table and a little present for each of them. In front of his plate was an envelope. It didn’t seem promising. In it were three tickets to something called Star Wars, due out of the 27th. He smiled a token smile. ‘Thank you’.
What the hell was Star Wars? And today, as on old man, in 2023, he thought back to that Christmas and the tears ran down his face. If he’d only known back then what Star Wars would mean to his life, he would have jumped from that table all those years ago and kissed his aunt.
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