The Unassuming Gift

Lying in bed staring into the darkness, every tick from the clock pounds louder and louder in her head. It is that time of year again. The time to frolic and give of good cheer. This time of year, it always robs her of sleep because she has never known a holiday full of merriment, at least not that she can recall. There are people who see her as cold and uncaring, while others as an extreme minimalist for not wanting to give or receive gifts during the holiday season. One thing the world never lacks at any time of the year is opinions. She digs her heals in deep on her stance concerning holiday shopping much like a child having a temper tantrum. She tries to list all the things she hates about the ensuing thoughtless gift-giving season that is upon her, but her mind has other plans.

A memory saves her from her pity party. Her eyes glaze over in reminisce. For her mother, the meal is the most important aspect of the season. Her mom creates such a special time around the dining room table. Breathing in deeply, her eyes close as she smells the turkey roasting and the profound smell of sage from the oyster stuffing baking. She can even smell the melted butter poured in a hole on top the pile of mashed potatoes in the serving bowl. Walking into her memory, the scent of pine catches her nose. She turns and fondly gazes upon the fresh cut Christmas tree noticing how the glistening, multi-colored lights bounce off the tinsel giving life to the tree. She peaks into the kitchen to see her mom dancing with a wooden spoon in her hand while she sings a duet with Elvis. Shaking her head, she turns to the dining room. Walking past the table her hand glides over the recently ironed white eyelet tablecloth. She squeezes her finger while admiring the centerpiece she made all by herself recalling how the holly bush in the front yard pricked her as she carefully selected each branch to clip.

The place settings perfectly positioned using the good bone china with grey and blue leaves and a silver trim. She taps a plate with her finger to test if this is real. Admiring the freshly polished silver adorning the buffet, each piece of silver reflecting colors of the icing from the homemade sugar cookies she and her mom baked from scratch and decorated with love. Taking a seat on the couch, she begins to laugh aloud as she listens to her dad telling silly ‘dad’ jokes while her brother plays along in good sport, easily entertaining her and her little sister. Her mother taught her to always regard every meal in the dining room as a time of happiness, especially around the holidays. This one meal of the year, this incredibly special Christmas Eve meal, she misses so much.

Wiping her face, her mind shifts back to her reality. It is the gift giving. This time of year turns people into maniacs. People fight over parking spots and knock each other down for the last item on a shelf. Everyone spends money they do not have just to hand out meaningless gifts, which makes themselves feel special for having bought presents for everyone. It is all about the giver receiving praise. Her mind persists, and today, if they miss a special moment without recording it on their phone, they try to recreate it for a photo-op completely ruining the moment altogether. No one is present. No one is enjoying the moment. “This is why I hate it,” she mumbles under her breathe.

She remembers having to wrap all the Christmas gifts… including her own, robbing the joy of gift giving for her years ago. Christmas morning brims with excitement as everyone opens their gifts, mom poised with a look of satisfaction upon her face. She recalls picking at the blue snowman wrapping paper already knowing what lies beneath and already knowing she hates it. Her eyes roll as she hears her mom yell to her, fully expecting her to play along, “Hurry up, open it. Let us see what Santa brought you.” With a forced smile full of teeth, she grins ear to ear just long enough to allow her mom to push the button on the Polaroid. Thoughts of Christmas lists never fulfilled enter her mind. Everyone bought her gifts that she should want, but never anything she actually wanted. Eventually she started asking for things that her family expected young girls should want just to make them happy.

The loud tick of the clock brought her back to her dark bedroom once again only now she is angry. With a scowl branded on her forehead she crosses her arms. She is mad at herself for agreeing to go shopping with the girls the next day. “I’ll just accidentally forget to bring my wallet so they have to buy me lunch for forcing me into this,” she exclaims as she pulls the blanket over her head and finally drifts off to sleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Her hand fondles everything on the nightstand except for the alarm clock. Eyes barely open, she finally locates the button to turn off that horrid noise. Sitting on the edge of the bed with arms stretching to the ceiling, eyes now open, she slides her feet into her house shoes then stands tall with conviction, shaking her right fist in the air, declaring to Mr. Fancy Pants, “Ok, I can do this. Bring it on!”

She receives a text from Steph, “We’re out front… 🎄🛍 Shopping here we come!!! 😆😜.” Wondering why most people feel the need to respond to every text, she drops her phone into her coat pocket while explaining to Mr. Fancy Pants that she would be back later. Just having finished breakfast, Mr. Fancy Pants could care less about his human counterpart. With all the excitement she could muster, she dances down the sidewalk with an explicit booty shake while her friends honk the horn and yell obscenities out the window. She hates to shop, but she knows how to have a fun time and enjoy the company of her amazingly supportive friends. Supportive in all matters excluding shopping.

“You all go in this store without me. My feet are killing me.” Pointing to the opposite side of the mall, “I’ll be over there sitting on that bench.”

Not having any shopping bags of her own, she takes on seven bags from her friends. Walking toward the bench, someone runs past her knocking a bag out of her hand just so they could sit down in the very spot she had her eye on. Oh yea, I forgot. It’s Christmas. Every man for themselves. She picks up the parcel from the floor. Sigh. Out of options, she leans against the wall to balance herself with all those bags.

Her eyes actively patrolling the mall. People watching is a sport during the holidays. She notices a man looking down at his phone walking in quick stride heading in her direction. He completely sees me. He must see me. “Am I invisible,” she yells aloud while hopping on one foot trying not to drop anything as he walks right into her. He turns back looking at her with a discernable expression upon his face as if she were in his way and should apologize to him. Keep walking buddy. “Not one of these people looks happy or excited to be here,” she mumbles under her breathe fully aware that someone at that very moment is thinking the same thing about her. She looks at her watch and her mouth opens dramatically as if her jaw became unhinged. Two hours! It’s only been two hours. I’m not going to make it. I will not survive this day!

Her mind saves her from her moment of despair as her sixth sense quickly returns her to the present moment. She notices a person gathering his bags. Is he leaving? I think he is leaving. Oh, yes, he is definitely leaving. In this moment, without hesitation, she becomes what she hates. She is now one of the thousands of rude people bustling around in a self-important fashion like a cock in a henhouse. With a battle plan already mapped in her head she moves fearlessly into the warzone. Using her elbows to plow through the crowd as if her commanding officer ordered arms with bayonets fixed. Not so politely she repeats, “Excuse me,” as she runs toward the open bench. Her behavior is so ugly, but she could not wait to sit down. Her friend’s bags are cutting into her arm. Setting the bags on the floor unaccountable for her actions. This is why I do not shop. I am turning into THEM. As if anyone in the mall made her run like she is the pizza guy who promised to deliver in thirty minutes or less. She had not fully exhaled to release the tension from her shoulders when she hears and excited, “Hi!”

She looks up, face squinched because she had not yet fully settled into her newly acquired seat. Before her stands a young man about the age of seven wearing dirty blue jeans ripped in one knee and a pair of tennis shoes that look like they could be too small for him. His black wavy hair makes the statement that, “I am unapologetically me.” She immediately loves this about him. His baseball style t-shirt with green sleeves reads, “Rudolph is my Spirit Animal.” Instantly she feels a connection to this child as if he is her people. Staring into his big, brown, innocent eyes she sees right away they are full of magic. She cannot help but to reflect a smile as big his back at him. He exclaims, “Merry Christmas! Ho. Ho. Ho.” Proudly extending his arm in her direction revealing a little trinket in his hand. “Is this for me,” she asks while appreciating that she is smiling a real smile for the first time that day. With absolute excitement he shakes his head yes and hands her a little yellow rubber ducky.

A completely unexpected feeling overwhelms her and suddenly wipes her face clean of all expression taking her breathe away. Slowly she picks up the rubber ducky from his hand with a halfcocked grin appearing on her face not completely certain of what is happening. She asks, “Aren’t you thoughtful? What is this for?”

The little boy’s mother is standing behind him with a bag full of little toys. She explains that all he wants for Christmas is to make people smile. Just being him made me smile. This little yellow rubber ducky is just a plus! He busts back into the conversation while flashing two and then eight fingers using both hands reporting, “You are my 28^th smile so far today!!!” He further explains, “When I see someone that looks sad, I give them a toy from this bag to make them happy.” He tugs on the bag his mom is holding. My gosh, my mad dash to this bench must have been quite the audacious display of unpatriotic, grinchy, non-sportsmanship like conduct to warrant such an honor from this child. I really do love the holiday season. I just hate to shop.

Overcome with emotion, she tried holding her breathe to stop from crying. That did not work, so placing a hand over her mouth, she attempts to prevent further blubbering as tears run over her cheeks. She could not speak for a moment, but then the proverbial frog jumped out of her throat and she takes a deep breathe. “Can I give you a hug?” she asks. It is her that needs a hug.

Shaking his head yes with that big, beautiful smile still on his face, he says, “I love hugs.” Squeezing him tight she says, “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received.” Standing up fanning her face with both hands she also hugs the mom while apologizing for her emotion, and she boasts, “You have an incredibly special little boy. I’ve never seen such a big heart.”

Enthusiastically the little boy asks, “How big do you think my heart is?”

Holding her rubber ducky tightly in her left hand and wiping tears from her cheeks with her right hand, she responds, “Like the size of the moon big. Just how many smiles do you plan on giving out anyway?”

Rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes with his tummy pushed forward like grandpa holding his suspenders about to tell a ‘when I was your age’ story, he proudly details all the arduous work he did to earn allowance and how he saved all his money to help bring smiles into the world. She sits back down looking at her rubber ducky understanding now exactly how special that little toy is considering all the time he spent doing chores and the time he spent carefully selecting the toys he thought would make people most happy. Looking back into his captivating eyes she gives him her full undivided attention and continues listening to his story.

Heavy in thought with a finger tapping on his chin, “I saved up enough foooorrr…” His eyes roll up as if to help him think, he continues after a deep breathe, “five trillion smiles. Yes, that’s how many.”

Just then his keen eye spots another unassuming mall patron. While yelling one more “Merry Christmas” and waiving a goodbye, he and his mother were off.

She is left gazing at the little trinket. I have received my share of meaningless gifts. What am I going to do with this? But seriously, how can something as inconsequential as a little yellow rubber ducky make me so darn happy? Although smiling, she could not recall the last time someone gave her a gift just to make her smile. That did not matter now. Her gaze reaches just beyond the little rubber ducky in her hand as she notices an angel tree from the local Boys and Girls Club two stores down. Carefully she secures her yellow ducky in her purse, picks up all her friend’s shopping bags, and walks over to investigate. Wouldn’t you know it? There is one name left on the tree.

With tear glistening eyes and a shaking hand, a smile starts to take over her face as she reaches for the last white paper snowflake decoration on the otherwise empty green tree. The volunteers begin signing, laughing, dancing, and jumping up and down because all the names of all the children on the tree are now gone. As she assumes responsibility of the paper snowflake she leans in and tells one volunteer, “Everyone is worthy of a smile at Christmas.” That little boy’s magnetic personality affected her deeply. She examines the white paper snowflake that once decorated the tree which describes the recipient as a ten-year-old girl who wants a robot for Christmas. Every child deserves to get exactly what they want for Christmas.

Softly under her breathe, she whispers, “I suppose I will buy one present this year. But only one.”