Christmas…it is a time of year, when people come together. Families and friends unite. Joy fills the world. And, if you are extra good all year long, then you might just get that special gift that you have wanted for oh-so-long. As the Christmas tree goes up, and gifts slowly make their way underneath, you can’t help but peak. Size up the packages with your name scrawled on them. The days leading up to Christmas become a game, where you try to determine if that special gift is there, under the tree, hiding in one of those colorfully wrapped packages.
Last year for Christmas, there was one single thing that I wanted. I had wanted it all year long, and had spent the months prior dropping less than subtle hints. True, it was expensive. Too expensive. It was something that I knew I would never get. But still, it was nice to pretend that I would. I am an avid knitter. It is a hobby that I picked up years ago, and have been unable to shake. February of last year, I was online when I happened to come across a website that sells spinning wheels. Instantly, my mind began to wander on how great it would be to be able to spin my own yarn. The price tag was steep though. Three hundred dollars is a lot.
I began to drop hints that it would be nice to have this present waiting for me on Christmas day. It was something that I never thought would happen. The hints were, more or less, given in a humorous way. I knew that, come Christmas, I would receive wonderful gifts. Gifts that I would love. But I also knew that the spinning wheel would not be one of them. And it was fine. There was no way that such a grand gift could be expected.
Christmas morning came. One look under the tree proved that the wheel was not hiding there. I took part in that timeless tradition of opening presents. Then, at the end, I was told to sit still. My family went to another room, returning moments later with a rather large present—one wrapped in such a way that it was obvious what was underneath.
Though I never thought it would happen, I had got the spinning wheel for Christmas, after all. I unwrapped it, and took in its beauty. Dark wood. It looked like something from a fairy tale. I stood over it in awe, not fully able to believe that I was looking at it. It was there, in my living room. I felt myself get shaky, with joy. Then, the shaking grew violent. And the unimaginable—the unthinkable—happened.
I fell! My body lunged forward, taking the spinning wheel with me, to the ground. The happiness felt only moments, was gone, as I heard the horrible sound. As I came down upon the spinning wheel, it broke. Climbing up into a standing position, I looked at the numerous pieces of broken wood, littering the living room floor. Tears came to my eyes, and I started to cry. And as I did so, my family began to laugh. They were not angry that the gift was ruined. Rather, they were happy that I was okay.
This year, the story has become a cautionary tale in my house. One that warns anyone from gifting me a present that is expensive, or fragile. Stick to clothing or candy. Anything else will prove to be a temporary gift.