The Gift

Word count: 451

My daughter, Melissa, became a teenager just before Christmas, in 1975. To my dismay, I discovered, once my little girl reached the age of thirteen she became an entirely different person. I quickly found, I knew nothing a father should know and Melissa knew everything, and somewhere in between her mother endured, unwilling to budge from her middle ground.

A week before Christmas, my wife asked me, “Have you bought a gift for Melissa? She always expects something special from you.”

“I have,” I said, and smiled when I saw the look of approval on my wife’s face. “It’s hidden in the hall closet.”

On Christmas morning, following tradition, Melissa opened my special gift last. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by new clothes, the Bee Gees’ latest eight-track, makeup (her mother’s idea) and shredded wrappings and ribbons, she tore away the paper from my gift, lifted the lid of a small cardboard box and said, “A rock…you gave me a rock for Christmas, Dad?”

I hid my disappointment and tried to explain. “It’s a special rock, Melissa. Your very own Pet Rock.” I forced a laugh and went on. “Look, it comes with a “Pet Rock Training Manual”, with instructions on how to take care of it, you don’t have to feed it and you can teach it tricks, like ‘sit’...‘roll over’...and ‘stay’.”

My wife shook her head in disbelief and Melissa put the rock under the tree, where it stayed, swaddled in packing material and nestled in its small cardboard box, the remainder of her Christmas break from school.

Melissa went back to school, in a new outfit, wearing makeup (I still didn’t approve), but I realized she was growing up and on the threshold of becoming a woman.

I heard the front door open and close. Melissa raced into the living room, threw her book bag down and rushed to the tree. “It's still here,” she screamed.

I looked at my wife and saw the same puzzled look on her face I must have had.

“All the kids got pet rocks for Christmas; they brought them to school and have names for them and everything. I’m taking ‘Speckles’ to school tomorrow and I am…”

“Speckles?” I interrupted.

“Duh, Dad, all the kids gave their rocks names and I decided I would call mine, Speckles.” She held the rock in the palm of her hand for me to see. “See all the colored specks on my rock, aren’t they pretty, Daddy?”

She gave me a hug and said, “This is the best present ever, Daddy, I love you.”

I knew at that moment, Melissa was still my little girl and would be for a few more years.