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The Little Drummer Boy Made Me Cry

The Little Drummer Boy Made Me Cry

Sunday, the most traveled day of the Thanksgiving holiday, I had to drive my son back to school. I don’t mind this drive at all. It’s a nice little drive and I enjoy the route.

It is a 3.5-hour drive one-way and when I get home it doesn’t feel, at all, like I finished a 7-hour drive. Honestly, the drive is not that bad. I’d much rather The Gent go with me but his work schedule doesn’t permit it some of the time. So I drive The Manchild back to school and then I have the whole car to myself on the trip back.

This was the case on Sunday. The traffic was not bad at all. We take the back roads and stay off of the highway for this trip. This is probably why I like driving it so much. I get to see the rolling hills, red clay, green pastures, and small little mom and pop places as well as rural Alabama and farmland. It is peaceful and it also reminds me of my home in Ohio, where I grew up. For a little while in time, I get to relax.

So I guess it should come as no surprise that I get a little sentimental when I am all alone with my thoughts, trapped in car without a smartphone distracting me and no one else to hold a conversation with.

Normally I am not the type of girl to cry over just anything. I don’t cry at work when I get yelled at – oh wait, I don’t get yelled at at work (yet).

I don’t cry when The Gent and I get in a heated argument – on second thought, The Gent and I have never had a heated argument; we have discussions.

I never cried in school over boys breaking up with me – wait, wait, wait a minute – no boys dated me back then so that wasn’t anything I had to worry about anyway.

In most situations that call for crying, I don’t do it. In fact, if other women start to cry I get all uncomfortable, I don’t know what to say to make them feel better and I normally just end up trying to find an exit quickly. I am not the nurturing type. Not in public anyway.

I am not a crier. However, having said all of that, put me in front of a good ole Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks chick flick and I break down like an Alabama fan who just witnessed the last second of the 2013 Iron Bowl. Okay, that’s probably a bad analogy because that is more like a come apart. What I am talking about is sentimental weeping at the end of the chick flick when everything perfectly and romantically comes together at the end.

Why do I do that? I know that shit ain’t real. Tom Hanks or not, if a man had befriended me and then proceeded to fool me like Joe Fox fooled Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail and he had come trotting up at the end of the movie with his damned dog to reveal he was the real man I had been emailing back and forth with, I’d be pissed off! You would be too and you know it.

Again, it is just the sentimentality of the whole thing I reckon. We want it to be super perfect like that, in the movies.

It is what got me in the car on Sunday, this sentimentality thing. There I was, minding my own business driving back home on 231 listening to Chritmas music on the radio. It was happy and jolly and nice.

Then, The Little Drummer Boy came on. I had never heard this particular version before and I don’t know who was singing this version. I don’t have a fancy car with a radio that tells me who is singing what song at any given time, you know, for those times when you must know who is singing that song right now or else!

This rendition of The Little Drummer Boy sounded like something from a country singer or country band. It was updated and contemporary. And I know I’ve heard this song for how many years now? We won’t go there but I even remember it from way back in the day and I think I heard it for the first time in a Christmas play in elementary school. I’ve heard it every Christmas since and I have the lyrics memorized like everyone else.

But Sunday, alone in my car, I actually listened to the words. I’ll blame the rolling hills, green pastures, and the Alabama red clay for making me soft that day too.

drummerboy

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Little Drummer Boy: Lyrics

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.

Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That’s fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?

Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.

Little Drummer Boy – lyrics

Those lyrics in bold are what did me in that Sunday afternoon. Tears immediately welled-up and my heart squeezed in tight. I tried swallowing my tears back but it didn’t help. I cried over The Little Drummer Boy being too poor to bring The King a gift. I can relate little one.

I eventually did get back to normal. I had to tell myself, “What the hell Carol? It is The Little Drummer Boy song! You big wuss.

But it was okay, I was alone and it felt good. I just don’t want to do that sort of thing in front of actual people!

Anyway, thanks for reading and putting up with me today,

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A middle-aged, petite, CrossFit athlete. #MoxieFit50

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