Not the most tragic Christmas stories, you know, but the year after that, things seemed to get better, but got progressively worst. You had gotten a v...ry expensive toy, one that was quickly sold out during the holidays. And just when your faith in the holiday seemed to get restored, several other kids from school who frequently bullied you took it upon themselves to “relieve” you of it, with a couple of punches to the head and stomach.When you grew old enough to appreciate parties, you attended. She looked at me, and Don helped her sit and placed her legs on the supports.“Do you want me to strap your legs so you can’t move them?”“No. Let’s see what happens this way. If I’m comfortable, you can get some shots of me with them up after.”“Alright. Now, for the controller. Do you want me to start you off, or do you want to take it from the top?”“Give it to me. I’ll give it a good workout. If you think I’m in danger, pull the fucking plug… quick.”“We haven’t set the stroke yet. Get settled. I stood up from the picnic table as Brad ran over to me and said, “Mr. Thompson said Barbara has the rest of the day off, and she wants me to go canoeing and swimming on the island.”“Of course, go have fun. Take a towel and some of the water.”Brad gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek as he whispered, “Good luck, Mom. You look great.” Then he grabbed his stuff and took off to shag Mr. Thompson’s daughter. I yelled, “Put on some sunscreen,” at his back as he was trotting off and waved over his. As she slipped a pair of skinny jeans, a nice top and a pair of knee high boots she thought back to the first time she met Simon. He was about 56 in height with auburn hair, a medium build and piercing green eyes. He had soft calming voice and an adorable appearance. As they both sat and spoke that night Tamara was entranced in Simons piercing green eyes and his smile. As she knocked on the door to Simons apartment and the anticipation of the nights began to once again build up. Simon answered.