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Blogs by Marcia Miller-Twiford
A Present for Mommy 12/4/2008 1:23:22 PM
It was a slim Christmas the year my son was five. Due to a divorce I was then what is now referred to as a single mother of three. Ken, my son, was the eldest. After the rent, utility bills and food shopping there was little to no money left. A birthday present was only a cake. That year I had scrimped and saved in determination to give them some sembelance of Christmas. I managed a couple of gifts for each but they weren't much. Young as they were the idea of presents didn't mean too much to them. Not until that Christmas Eve. My mom brought over a small decorated tree and when she plugged in the lights three little faces also lit up, and I wept. Then from a large bag she pulled out presents. Lots of presents, for the kids. The rest of the family soon arrived along with a couple of friends and more presents including a tricycle for Ken, a doll carriage for Sherry complete with doll, and a big teddy bear for Dana. Mom had also brought dinner and after a delicious meal the kids opened their presents. Later, midst piles of wrapping paper, ribbons and hollers of delight my three angels sat amongst their bounty and three happier children I've never seen. Within a few minutes Ken disappeared. I didn't think anything of it until he reappeared. In his hands, held close to his chest, was a shoe box. That shoe box was very special to him. In it he kept all his favorite little trinkets and toys - ones that tend to get lost because of their size. These were things he'd collected over his young lifetime. They clearly showed how our life was at the time: a small worn tooth brush, a tiny tin soldier, a minature rubber motorcycle, one broken then tied together shoelace, a colored folded picture from a crayola book he'd done and was proud of along with three very worn down crayolas, a couple of rubber bands, a whistle from a Cracker Jack box, a microscopic bible about two by two inches in size, five marbles, a small ball to play Jacks with, one candle from his last birthday cake, etc., etc. Unbeknown to me he'd taken some wrapping ribbon with him when he left the room and when he came back he entered the living room, walked over to my mother and asked her something in a very quiet voice. I then saw her take a pen out of her purse and write something on the box. Ken then walked over to me and handed me the box. On it was written, "Merry Christmas Mommy. Sorry the ribbon is messy. I did the bestest I could. I love you Mommie, Kenny." Then that sweet boy looked at me and said, "Open it Mommy. You have to have Christmas presents too."
I still have that shoe box, its contents intact although the box looks a tad worn just as I do. It has traveled the miles of my life with me and is the first thing I'd grab in case of a disaster.
