A Christmas Story

word count: 1000

It was a Christmas I’ll never forget, the first one we were celebrating since dad’s death. Mom was struggling, her two jobs barely pulled in enough to cover the bills and get food, yet alone afford a gift for me. I remember how pathetic it was in the house. We had sold all of our furnishings, my toys, and many of our clothes, so mom could reduce the bills. When my friends came over, they all gasped at how bare the house was. During December, they all asked me where our tree was.

On Christmas Eve, I told my mom how happy I was to have her. I let her know, that having her there this year was better than any gift she could buy me. I had made her many crafts at school throughout the last month. During the last week before Christmas, I had taken the neighbors newspaper from the street waste so I could wrap my gifts. After she left for work, I wrapped them. The gifts and their pathetic wrapping made me feel as though I couldn’t give her enough. That night, I fell asleep wishing I had more to offer her.

Although I did not expect gifts, I awoke early the next morning. In the living room, mom had placed a pine tree branch. To it, she had tied bows of yarn. Under this makeshift tree, she had placed a present. I squealed with delight. The idea, that despite our financial difficulties she had a present for me, made me feel as if I was the luckiest kid alive.

Mom had worked late on Christmas Eve. Even though I was excited, I let her sleep late as one of the few gifts I could give her. It felt like forever, while I sat on the hard wood floors, clutching my present in my arms, awaiting her emergence from slumber. I heard shuffling in her room, and called to her, “Mom? May I open it please?!”

In her terry robe, she came into the living room. With a huge smile, she said, “Of course.”

I ripped through the paper. It revealed a plush rabbit. It was made of a thick brown, fleeced fabric. It had ears of different colors. One ear stood up as if supported by some wire, but the over ear flopped all over. It had eyes made of buttons that didn’t quite match either. It didn’t matter what matched and what did not, because it was perfect. I exclaimed, “Oh, Mom! It’s great! I’ll call it Mitzi! I’ll have to show all my friends later today.”

Mitzi was my constant companion from that point on. I quickly ate some breakfast. I searched, but only found one mitten. Then, I shoved Mitzi in my pocket to go outside and see which friends could play. I took note of all the gifts my friends received, but I didn’t think any of them were as great as my Mitzi. I saw a boy was toting around a new sled. The red paint on it stood out against the white snow. I felt my face flush with envy. He had the sled I had dreamt about during the last year, all I had was a fleece bunny with button eyes.

I started crying. I didn’t understand why the world was so unfair. That boy got the sled I wanted, and he got both of his parents. I had my mom, but with all the work she did I rarely saw her. I thought of Dad. “If he were still here, I would have gotten that sled, and more,” I thought. I pulled the bunny out of my pocket and stared down at it. I felt trivial as I stared at Mitzi. The night before, I had thought I wouldn’t have a gift at all. Now, I had the best gift my mom could afford to give me and I was comparing it to some boy that I didn’t know well. I ran inside with tears steaming down my face.

Mom had been on a phone call when I entered the house. As I entered, she hung up the phone. I guessed it was a call from a grandparent, feeling obligated to call and wish us a merry day, although they had made no attempt to help it to be merrier. As I ran to my room, I remember hearing my mom say to me, “I’m sorry, hon. I tried my best.”

I felt so ungrateful. When I heard Mom knock at the door, I stopped bawling. In an apologetic tone, I bellowed out, “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful.” The tears began to pour again like a summer rain storm. I stopped crying when my eyes felt as though the lids were going to swell shut. My face was hot like I had a fever. My stomach felt queasy from the snot that ran down my throat while I wept. I went to the bathroom, washed my face, and then headed out to the dinner Mom had prepared.

Just before we sat down to eat, Mom pulled out a piled of newspaper. With grace that I will never be able to replicate, she said “After you left to play, I found these in the living room. I think they are packages for me. There are so many, I didn’t want to open them without you there.”

Each present she opened, happily, Finally, I spoke up. “I’m so sorry mom. I should have gotten you a real gift. But I tried to do something, just so I could give you something. I wanted to let you know, I love you.”

“I love you too. Maybe next year –“

“Don’t worry about next year, Mom,” I interjected. “I didn’t think I was going to have any presents, but you proved me wrong. Thank you.” I pulled out Mitzi so she could join our dinner. Every year Mitzi gets pulled out to help me remember what is important on Christmas.