125 - gift
you are six years old.
you really want a puppy. its your birthday soon, and you really want a puppy. lots of your friends have puppies. it seems so fun.
so you ask. you let your parents know that you'd really like a puppy. you are six years old, so you do not really understand the consequences of this, or the likelihood of receiving one, or any of the complexities of it all.
but you know that you have to ask if you want things, so you do. you try your six year old best to be polite about it.
your parents "uhmmm" and "ahhhh" and don't really give you an answer. they exchange a funny look that you don't understand. they say they'll think about it, and you content yourself with that. the whole thing is pushed to the back of your mind for a little while. there are always more things to think about, when you are six years old.
and then
the big day comes
it is your birthday. you are so excited. you have almost forgotten that you asked for a puppy, but your parents have not. they've prepared a surprise for you.
"hey kiddo... you remember what you wanted for your birthday? you remember how you wanted a puppy?"
oh my gosh. you do remember. you are SO excited.
"well... since you've been so good and patient this year... we got you one!!"
oh my GOSH. really??? really for real?? ? ! !!
one of them approaches with a puppy-sized box. this is crazy. if you had remembered that you'd asked for this, you would barely be able to believe that it was happening now. you're so excited-!!
you tear away the wrapping paper with your little hands. your parents watch on with glee.
you tug the sticky tape away so you can open the box.
you are six years old. you fail to notice that the box is very quiet, very still. there are no air holes. there are no smells. just a puppy-sized cardboard box.
but you've been told it contains a puppy!! so it must.
you open it.
you
you are terribly confused.
you reach in with your little hands. your parents watch on and smile. you withdraw the piece of paper that rests at the bottom of the box.
your eyes widen and begin to tear up. your lip trembles. you are six years old, and it will be years before you have words for the tightness in your chest.
on the piece of paper is a picture of a puppy. just a picture. no words, no 'IOU, redeem for a real puppy' note, no trinkets or accessories or paraphernalia that might imply a real puppy to come.
just a piece of paper. a picture of a puppy. a lie.
your parents laugh and nudge each other. they find this very amusing. you are the butt of their joke.
"see! we got you a puppy! isn't this exactly what you wanted?"
- - - - - -
you are seven years old.
you do not ask for anything for your birthday.