One of the most famous, of course, took place in high school--my freshman year, if I'm correct. It was one of those years when I wanted something very specific.
Despite all my hoping and anticipating, I unwrapped my gifts in an almost anti-climactic way, careful not to tear the paper because I folded it up and saved it. As I pulled the lid off the white department store box I had just extricated, I caught a glimpse of red, felt the soft, smooth texture of the shirt's material, and exclaimed, "It's silk!"
Whether I laughed or cried or turned the same shade as the blouse I'd received, I'm not sure anymore. Echos of "It's silk!" surrounded me as my extended family collectively enjoyed my response to the gift. It was an expression that I would hear Christmas after Christmas as I opened my presents.
I don't save my wrapping paper anymore, though I hear if you shred it, it does make great filler for gift bags or shipping packages. Very rarely do I ask for a certain gift either, as I feel fortunate to have what I need (and most of what I want) already. This year, however, was to be another of those unforgettable moments for me.
We distributed the presents at my mom's house so a pile sat in front of each of us. I chose one whose tag stated it was from my youngest brother Evan, and for some reason I presumed it to be a sweater. Not that a sweater is bad or good, but my rational mind made a guess.
As I ripped into the gift I saw black and gold and a Penguins logo, and I turned it over to see "Francis" on the back of what happened to be a different kind of sweater. I cried. On Christmas. No blurted words, just blurted tears.
And my family declared, "It's silk!"
Maybe it's a silly thing to cry when you get a hockey jersey of your all-time favorite player from your baby brother. I was so moved by the thoughtfulness of the gift, the expense he shouldn't have gone to, the joy of holding that "shirt" that I won't even mind if you bring it up again.
Photo courtesy of Jessica Brown-Bence.
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