Finding the Perfect Gift | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Finding the Perfect Gift | Previous Challenge Entry
By Amanda Gray
11/16/08
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Martha watched with growing distress as her children, all now over 50, became stiff and defensive. She took no part in the discussion, but felt the peace of the room was fragile, superficial. Voices had begun to show the tension. Cracks were forming in the surface calm and glimpses of raw emotion exposed.

“We really shouldn’t have to give gifts to the whole extended family. It is just becoming too big, too expensive. I mean, last year Sue had to take out a loan to buy what was expected of her… It just isn’t reasonable…”

“But the price limits we set are reasonable – and remember we agreed on them. And she doesn’t have to buy if she doesn’t want to… But really, $10 for each person isn’t much these days.”

“Well, Barry, I can understand both perspectives, but I think that we need to stick to the agreed lists. It will stop all the tension and hurt created by having to return unwanted gifts.”

“But gifts wouldn’t have to be returned if they weren’t seen as something given to fulfil an order or request … And it’s not true that anyone can just opt out – I mean, I know it really hurt Sam (not that he would say anything) when …”

Martha put her head down and frowned into the coffee cup that was encased in her arthritic hands. How she longed for Paul. His firm, wise voice could always calm the family storm. But he had been gone for many years now.

Martha’s mind wandered back, trying to picture past Christmas gifts. She could see young, excited faces. Kisses. Hugs. But she couldn’t visualise any specific gift… except…

Lucy. She had kept Lucy, cared for her ever since that Christmas in 1931.

Martha sank back into the past and could almost hear her brother’s voice as they whispered conspiratorially, eager to work out what their parents might give them this year. They tried to sneak into the little kitchen, but their mother had closed the door. They could hear the snip-snip of Ma’s scissors, the gentle rumble of Pa’s voice and the wish-wish of his carving knife.

But Martha dragged Danny back to bed. She didn’t want to find out too much. She didn’t want to spoil the surprise. She loved the anticipatory butterflies, the struggle to sleep the night before.

She had woken up the next morning just as the first light was peeking greyly through the old sheets pinned over the window. She sat up with a jerk and her eyes went straight to the foot of the mattress she shared with her brother.

Even now, 70 years later, Martha could still feel the thrill of excitement that had made her jump up and down and wake her family. And all for two little parcels wrapped in newspaper.

The family huddled together under the blankets as Martha and Danny carefully peeled back the newspaper (Ma would use it later to wrap the scraps in). Danny’s gift was a car Pa had carved out of raw wood salvaged from the riverbank. Nails and bottle tops made the wheels.

Martha was given Lucy, a doll made out of an old flour sack. It was stuffed with hay and adorned with the detritus of Ma’s work as a seamstress. But Martha found out many years later that Lucy’s dress was made of strips cut from the hems of the only two dresses Ma owned that year.

Every time she looked at Lucy she thought of her mother's love. Lucy was small and worthless. But her mother’s sacrifice and personal investment made Lucy priceless. To Martha, Lucy was a reflection of the spirit of the heavenly Christmas Gift.

But her attention was demanded by the present. Voices were raised, emotions laid bare as her son stood up and yelled, "Well, we may as well just go out and buy our own presents, wrap them up and give them to ourselves."

Martha’s grandson rushed in from the kitchen. Sounding so much like Paul, he calmly pointed out "You’re upsetting Gran.”

“Are you alright, Gran?"

"No, I don't think I am." She impatiently waved him aside. "No. No. It's not my heart." She paused to catch her breath. "I just want to tell you about the most precious Christmas gift I have ever received….”

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