The only real gift
Dec. 25, 2003-1:54 pm
IT IS...the only real gift you will give this Christmas, and the only gift you will receive.
It takes the form of a child holding a helium balloon. Then , unexpectedly, it slips away, disappearing in the sky. It is the belief that maybe a shift of the wind, a miracle of an exemption from the rules gravity will make it come back.
It is why an uninteresting pair of socks wrapped in green paper sounds so much like a toy dinosaur when shaken by a small boy.
It is a middle-aged man, embarrassed, trying to remain nonchalant as a nubile young sales girl holds up two sexy undergarments and asks him to pick which one he thinks will fit his wife.
It is what makes him answer: "The smaller one."
It is the impenetrable protection of a child's belief in Santa, shielded from the sound of familiar voices in the attic on Christmas Eve.
It is the scent of a crib warmed by a sleeping baby. It is the accompanying memory loss that makes a mother of older children look longingly and lean over that crib and wish she could do it again.
It is why the street person's hunger makes him sad instead of angry. And why the five-dollar bill you put into his shaking hand will be spent on beef jerky and a 6 pack.
It is the sudden stillness in an older woman's kitchen , as she stops and listens when she thinks she hears the door latch, even though he hasn't come home in years.
It's what turns the dollar-store, slave-labor, nylon-haired knock-off into a real Barbie when touched by her 6-year-old fingers. It's what makes her father blink back a tear and silently promise to give her a better Christmas next year.
It is why he has blocked out that he had made the same promise when she was five.
It is why we can't imagine Christmas dinner without Grandma, and why Grandma sometimes looks up with a start when she hears her name. It's why she thought, just for a moment, that it was her mother calling.
It is why she isn't sure that it wasn't.
It is the reason middle aged women read beauty and seduction tips in women's magazines ... It is the reason middle aged men do sit ups and purchase Viagra.
It is why a child, at least once in his life, has wanted to cry at Christmas.
It is the reason why I am taken aback every single time that "same person" is verbally abusive to me. I had really expected a different outcome this time.
It is as precious as a baby lying in a manger. It is as painful as a flesh-torn hand and a thorn-crowned head. It is the reason for both.
And if every Christmas song and gift , every Christmas dinner and New Year's toast, every unanswered invitation and annoying drunken guest, every office party kiss and happy child's hug � if every human moment of the entire holiday season could be stripped of its tinsel and pretense and price tag and reduced to its truest essence, we would find it there, the only gift ever given at Christmas, the same gift passed hand to hand.
It is hope.
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