I Got What I Needed

A true Christmas story from my childhood. I wrote this and sent it with my Christmas cards two years ago.

I Got What I Needed

 

One Christmas Eve brought me something I hadn’t wished for. Early on that fateful holiday, I lay down under the family Christmas tree and stared up, squinting to let the colorful lights grow long star points. I dreamed of a huge pile of presents, all with my name on them. On my transistor radio, an angelic choir sang, “You can’t always get what you want, and if you try sometime, you find you get what you need.”

The song by The Rolling Stones seemed to mirror my perspective on Christmas, but I failed to realize the lyrics Mick’s angels sang had nothing to do with Christmas or present getting. Despite being taught the gracious virtues of gift giving versus receiving, I fully embraced the receiving part and wished the anticipated Christmas Eve gifting event would bring me a toy John Deere hay baler, among many other things.

            Christmas Eve at Grandma and Grandpa’s house always proved a gift-unwrapping bonanza. My grandparents made every Christmas a truly memorable event with a tree heavy with ornaments, lights, tinsel, and gleaming presents piled all around. When they threw open the double-doors to reveal Christmas Land, it took my breath away. Even if I noticed the decoration-laden tree, I couldn’t get near it for all those meticulously wrapped presents. Grandma and Grandpa’s Christmas Eve extravaganza always meant six or seven big presents for each of us wide-eyed, awestruck kids, and they ensured everyone got the same number of similarly priced presents. It never occurred to me that they saved their money all year long to purchase the truckload of presents.

            On that one Christmas Eve, I fidgeted while sitting with my cousins anticipating all those enthralling gifts. Grandpa acted as Santa Claus and gave the grown kids a couple presents to amp up our anticipation. My heart pounded when he finally got around to us younger kids. Expert in peeling the perfect wrapping off, I opened my first present in two clawing pulls�"rip-rip! I got a battery-powered army tank, how cool. I wanted to run it but knew the gift-opening order turned over quickly, so I had to remain focused.

            Halfway through the gifting process we took a breather in the other room for cookies and hot chocolate, not that I needed the sugar. Even though the pile of presents had diminished with the tree now within touching distance, I knew there was more for me. I tugged on my mother’s arm pleading that I needed to get back inside to the tree and the presents. She told me to sit, be patient, and mind my manners. I went back to the doors to Christmas Land, but Mother’s eye stopped me in my tracks. I paced, trying to catch everyone’s attention, especially Grandpa’s, to restart the gift dispersal. It worked. Grandma saw my excitement and nudged Grandpa to his feet. I escorted him back inside Christmas Land in case he needed assistance getting to the presents or finding mine.

            As Christmas Eve waned, there was plenty for me: the tank, a dinosaur collection, the de rigueur clothing item, a game, and more but no John Deere baler. My cousins were happily satisfied still unwrapping or playing with their gifts. There had to be a mistake. I went up to Grandpa and despite my habitual reticent self, asked if there were any more presents for me. He said the few presents remaining were for the grown-ups. Right then he looked past me as hands grasped my shoulders. I winced, and my mother wheeled me shopping cart-style out through Christmas Land’s double-doors. I knew I had screwed up, and my mother ensured I remembered the lesson forever. The joys in Christmas Land continued unabated without me, for I was incarcerated to solitary confinement.

            Since that one Christmas Eve, whenever I hear The Rolling Stone’s angels sing, I remember Grandma and Grandpa, the decorations, and all the Christmas cheer; but most of all, I remember the one thing I didn’t wish for, but nevertheless, I got what I needed.

Author's Note

Yeah, I'm not proud of my bratty childhood, but at least I can write about it. Comments?

Reviews

[wondering]

SO what you never got that new baler, Heck I will get you one, probably bought a few for my son over the years. Got to have the whole collection, huh? And you are right can't always get what you want and too bad kids today can't realize that