Here's something a little different this week because I have decided to give myself a week off. Instead of writing something new, I'm just going to post a short Christmas story that I wrote a few years ago. Hope you enjoy it.

The Gift

Like many good stories, this one happened once upon a time.  The time was shortly before Christmas, during the season of Advent.  I was focused on all the things that needed to be done.  My wife helped me focus by writing everything down for me.  She tried to make it easier by dividing the chores into two lists, one of things that needed to be done, and one of things she would like me to do.  I knew there was no significant difference between the lists.

One of the first chores was putting up the decorations.  My wife enjoys this.  Really.  When we were first married, I thought she was just trying to be nice when she offered to decorate by herself.  Wanting to be nice also, I helped anyway.  It only took two years of watching her undo my work to figure out she was serious.  That year our daughter, Sarah, was seven and allowed to help.  My job was keeping our son, Charlie, out of the way.  He was only about a year and a half and still a long way from grasping the concept of “look, but don’t touch.”

When the tree was finished, I picked the little guy up for a closer look.  Charlotte narrowed her eyes and reminded me that the fragile ornaments had been intentionally placed out of his reach.  “I’ve got him.  We’re just looking.” I tried to assure her.  She looked less than confident.  Sometimes I think she knows the future because not two minutes later, Charlie managed to grab an ornament I thought was far enough away.  I was startled and jerked back.  Naturally, this startled Charlie and made him drop the ceramic wreath that was no longer anchored to the tree.  There was a revealing clank as it knocked against more ceramic on its way to the floor.

Charlotte sighed and picked up the two halves and inspected the one still hanging on the tree.  I knew exactly what she was thinking.  Two ornaments were involved in this crash.  One was a beautiful wreath that she had treasured since she was a child; the other was a giant Christmas duck that even I knew was tacky.  The duck had been a gift so it still earned a place on the tree, but I think Charlotte might have thanked me if the outcome had been reversed.  As it was, I took Charlie into the next room before the “I told you so” lecture could start.

I hoped to do better with the other items on my list.  I successfully delivered used toys to a local children’s charity and stuffed thirty-five Christmas cards into envelopes without a single paper cut.  There were some ways I could be quite useful.  But the one chore that wasn’t on a list from my wife… the one chore that was self-imposed... that was the one I feared the most.  I needed to buy presents.  My wife handled most of that.  Shopping is something else she enjoys.  I needed to buy something for her though, and something for each of the kids.  The kids’ presents were easy.  I knew Charlie would like anything with buttons to push and Sarah wanted anything that looked like something her mom would have.  I got her washable fingernail polish in ten different colors.  It was a big hit. 

Once again though, I had no ideas for Charlotte.  I wanted to see that light in her eyes again.  That look that tells me I’ve bought the perfect present.  I saw her eyes light up like that one year and I’ve been trying to do it again ever since.  The one year I saw it was the year I gave her an engagement ring for Christmas.  No wonder it was so difficult.  Could I have set the bar any higher?

I took Sarah with me to the mall to look for ideas.  We looked through the bookstore.  It all felt a little impersonal even though I saw a few I was sure Charlotte would enjoy.  Sarah suggested we look at clothes.  I cast sideways glances at some lingerie while pretending, as much for my own sake as Sarah’s, to be interested in some holiday robes.  Then Sarah pointed eagerly at some fancy dresses, and I knew we needed to exit the clothing store.  Charlotte would be angry with me for spending the amounts listed on those tags, to say nothing of the minefield of guessing a woman’s size.

We had given up and were on our way to the exit when something just inside a dollar store caught Sarah’s eye.  “Dad!” she screamed.  “I need that!”  I followed her into the store to see what I was about to be begged for.  It was a plain white bracelet made out of hard plastic.  When I pointed out that it would likely fall off her tiny wrists she informed me that it was for Mommy, that it was the perfect present for Mommy.  I couldn’t believe how certain she was and how easy this shopping thing was for her.  I didn’t even know she was looking for something.  I asked her what made her think it was so perfect.

“The baby told me to get it for her.”

I chuckled at the thought of my seven-year-old consulting my one-year-old for present ideas.  Apparently, I was the only one who was having any trouble with this.  Charlie communicates in one word sentences and was giving gift advice.  But the bracelet cost a dollar and I knew Charlotte would find it a sweet gesture so that was the only gift we bought that day.

I gradually checked things off my lists as the days were checked off the calendar and felt the pressure mounting.  Two days before Christmas I was in the mall again.  I was all alone this time, except for the two hundred other frantic shoppers.  I went into a store selling only Christmas items.  It was pretty picked over.  The bare shelves made me feel like everything was over and I left the depressing scene before it could bring me any further down.  I went back to the bookstore and picked up two books.  I knew Charlotte would like them.  One was a novel she had been waitlisted for at the library for two months.  But I also knew they weren’t perfect enough.  I would have to wait at least one more year to turn that light on again.

Christmas afternoon and evening would be divided by the beautiful chaos that only a large extended family can create.  But first came the relative calm of the four of us around the tree.  Sarah proudly offered her mom the first present of the morning.  She had wrapped it herself and used enough ribbon for something six times its size.  Charlotte eventually won the battle with the pretty strings and pulled out her prize, that plastic bracelet.  I saw that it had been transformed by a green marker and a red bow to resemble a wreath.

“It’s to replace the one that Charlie and Daddy broke,” Sarah announced proudly.  I was glad to hear that Charlie at least shared the blame.  It was very sweet though and I looked at Charlotte to see if she was going to cry.  She always cries at this sort of thing.  And that’s when I saw it, that light I had been trying to turn on again for years.  I saw it and I realized that I was an idiot.  I had been trying to turn on something that was never off.  It was love and it had been there all this time.  I finally understood that when I first noticed it, it had had very little to do with the sparkle of the ring and everything to do with the commitment and the love that it represented. 

I sat there staring at my family, fully content for the first time in weeks, and amazed at the wisdom they had shown me without even knowing it.  Later on I told Sarah that I really liked her gift and I asked her if she had thanked her brother for the idea.  She gave me a look.  It was a look that I had never seen before, but I was already certain it would appear regularly during her teenage years.  Then she pointed at Charlie and said, “It’s Christmas, Daddy.  I didn’t mean that baby.”

©2007 by Amanda Hamm

Mandy usually appears weekends on TriangleMom2Mom.