She didn’t need an alarm. How could anyone sleep the night before Christmas? Especially when expecting the greatest of gifts. Her brother complained of her gulosity, but what else was the holiday for than asking for the most?
Leaping from her bed and tying a robe around her small frame, Nina escaped her room and ran to the living area. To the sparkling tree surrounded by gift after gift. Large boxes, small bags. The house still slept as she separated out her presents. At this age, dreams of Santa coming down the dirty chimney had faded. Now, she brought her list to the source.
She’d topped the year before, scribbling her want for a laptop, hoverboard, PlayStation, and TV. Her room was ready for the additions, shelves reoriented and desk pushed aside. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she noted the weight and width of each box. It seemed her wishes had been met.
Mom and Dad came out of their room, groggy from the night before. Nino waltzed out, hair freshly washed and jeans belted. As if they would go someplace on Christmas day. With formalities out of the way, Nina tore the wrapping.
Gift after gift. Wish upon wish. She got all she asked and then some. Another successful Christmas.
Until she pulled out her phone. Her social media was covered in Christmas morning goodies. Cars with giant bows, pools and trampolines. One guy had a new mural on his bedroom wall. The TV and gaming system became wasted asks. Just looking at the new laptop made her sick. Why didn’t she ask for something different?
A gasp caught her ear. Packages with Nino’s name remained under the tree, ignored by her younger sibling. Instead he stood by their mother, giddy as a mouse as she stared at a hunk of wood. Something with drawers and a fabric top. Had it even been painted?
“A puzzle board. I love it, sweetie,” their mother finally breathed, eyes wide in wonder.
“I’m glad.” Nino bent and hugged her, smile only growing. Nina watched him quietly as he ignored his gifts under the tree, dragging boxes and bags to their parents. Gifts he didn’t even give them. They opened one after another, smiling with each.
Yet Nino’s sparkling grin outshone theirs.
What made him so happy? What was so special about their gifts?
When he finally opened his presents, their parents had the same expressions. Pure joy. He thanked them, prioritized hugs over checking the dimensions. By the end of the festivities, the toys had been ignored. The electronics, the tree, the lights. All the gulosity that made Christmas magical. The day ended, and the 26th began. All the happiness sapped.
Except for Nino and her parents. They still had joy.
Nina peeked from her phone one moment or another, wondering what was so great. Her father had only gotten kitchen appliances, yet he laughed with Nino while they burned leftovers and assembled odd parts. Mom had gotten puzzle after puzzle, yet she smiled while organizing pieces and thanked Nino again and again for the board. Her annoying brother hadn’t even gotten a laptop, just a kiddie chemistry set that he added to his collection of basic experiments.
What wasn’t she seeing?
Her eye fell on the nativity, a story told from generation to generation. The supposed meaning of Christmas, a newborn baby who got spices instead of toys. The wooden shelter and small figurines suggested a humble scene. No lights, no presents. A rather dull Christmas.
Tiny baby Jesus lay bundled in hay. Shepherds and animals, kings and angels. They all bent a knee to the chipped manger figurine. She’d never heard the story without her mother shedding a tear. Sunday service had been all about a little town, a glittering star, and the gift given to humanity.
A gift given, not taken.
The hustle and bustle around her seemed to change. The chaos and ecstatic joy made a little more sense. Rather than seeking gratification, each person gave to another. Didn’t matter if they hated cooking or mixing up slime; they performed the task for the others’ enjoyment. And that time and attention was rewarded with an infectious joy that consumed the whole house.
Everywhere, except where she sat. Cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by her granted wishes. Gifts she would forget in a week and items that would break in a month. Phone in hand, the constant scroll feeding her lust for more. What she would give to have their joy, to be happy for more than a moment.
Maybe next year she’d finally remember to set a gift under the tree for someone else.