Dec 22 2008
Word Shot – 22 December, 2008
To those of you who participated in last week’s Word Shot, well done! I continue to be delighted by the submissions, and I’m sure other readers are, too.
Here’s the photo for this week’s Word Shot:
Allow me to give you a bit of a lead on this one. If you could receive any gift this holiday season – regardless of what it costs or whether or not it would be possible to give to you – what would it be? It doesn’t have to be something that could be wrapped up in a box. Think about this one and see where it takes you.
We’d all be interested in your response – even if it’s just a single word. When you’re ready, simply submit it as a comment to this post. Don’t forget to check out other writers’ submissions for this Word Shot in the coming week. Please remember, this exercise is for all of us, and the purpose is to help up hone our writing skills. Believe me, it will do that.
Also, don’t forget that I will send you all three of my e-manuals as a prize, once you have participated in 10 Word Shots! Just e-mail me to let me know when you qualify.
Have fun with this one. And a very merry holiday season to you all!
I’m hope this is one of those boxes that fits way more in it than size indicates. I’ve been hinting all year for a new laptop. One of those jazzy little things I can fit in my handbag and not walk around like the hunchback of Sydney. Not a good look even in a city full of weird-looking people.
I would love a new pair of hiking boots. My old ones have mouldered away from disuse. New ones would get me out in the bush and walking again. And there’s just about this much space left in my wardrobe…
I know! A kayak! A kayak that could be squished into a tiny box like this would be so easy to get down to the river. No messing around with roof-racks, getting the cumbersome thing up and down from the car, and way over to the water and back. Just carry the box to the riverbank. Take off the lid, and wallah! Ready to paddle.
I really, really hope it’s a kayak in that box.
As a humor writer,I rarely venture into the world of serious or deep thought projects. This picture would not lend it’self to humor no matter how I tried. Perhaps it is just the season or my own recent experiences. I will give it my best shot.
The Best Gift of All
It was a tiny box. Almost lost in the sea of packages piled under the tree. Packages that the adults and older children were not anxious to open.
The little ones had long since spread wrapping paper from here to there and were sleeping the sleep of the contented hugging teddy bears and new dollies close. Granny suggested that we might as well get it over with. The doctors weren’t going to make a decision about Jacob’s condition until at least this evening.
Jacob, child, grandchild and loved by all. So very hurt in the accident. So little chance according to the doctors. We sighed and began opening the gifts as Granny had instructed. One was left and when the box was lifted there was no tag to indicate to whom it belonged. The eldest handed the beautiful, tiny box to granny who opened it and stared quietly into it’s depths. She began to smile as she tilted it to show us that it was empty.
“Granny, why are you smiling?” One of the teenagers asked. “ There is nothing in the box. It is just a joke someone played on us. A mean joke.”
Granny eyes glistened as she looked at each one of her family.“No, it isn’t empty. It’s full to the brim. It contains a special Christmas message. Jacob will be home with us soon. We will, as we always have, go on with our lives and be blessed. Maybe not with money, or a fancy home or expensive presents but, with love and closeness and the knowledge that we are watched over.
Later that afternoon the news from the hospital came that all was surprisingly well. We finally believed what our grandmother had told us. We should not have doubted her. Smiles and tears of relief were everywhere as dinner was served . We put a plate aside for jacob. It was after all his celebration too.
“What would you like for my birthday?” he asked gently, looking into my eyes but gazing into my soul.
“Lord,” I replied, “I only wish for you to give me the gift that I need to recieve in order to fulfill my duty on earth.”
With a glowing smile he replies “it shall be so. I love you my child.”
~~~~
“Daddy, daddy!! Wake up, it’s time to open presents.” the 5 year old exclaims with the excitement that only a 5 year old can experience.
quickly the dream flees from his memory. it had been a difficult year. Bad choices in earlier adulthood were coming back to pay their revenge and teach their lessons. oh yes, they were teaching alright…yes, he was learning.
“Here you go hunny, this ones from…umm…I have no idea who it’s from. Do you know who it’s from?” the wife asks with a hint of accusation mixed with sarcasm.
“Rogelio…I Love You!” says the tag. “who is this from?” he ponders.
Knowing he will have to clean the mess of wrappers from the youngin’, he carefully unwraps the tiny little box. Inside, is a note.
It reads:
“Never give up. the lessons you are learning now are exactly what you need. The choices you have made will make you exactly who you need to be. you are who you need to be. Never give up. I am proud of you.
Always remember that God doesn’t require that you succeed. He only requires that you try. Never, never give up”
signed only by a fingerprint in the most beautiful red he’d ever seen in his life. Immediately, he felt one thing…Love.
Mele Kalikimaka e Hau’oli Makahiki Hou (Hawaiian)
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
Everybody says that big ideas come in small packages.
What they fail to mention is that small ideas also come in small packages.
It had been a long day filled with food and festivities. From the early morning berry breakfast with the family, through the long, lazy lunch filled with traditional food to the late evening supper made up from the leftovers of the day, she had been constantly on the go. Cooking, finding things, coordinating, greeting, and cleaning up, only to start all over again. The house was quiet now and she sat in the wing chair by the window with a cup of hot tea by her side.
She was suddenly aware of movement in the room. “Mum?” came whispering from the shadows. A small hand came into view. “Mum, I forgot I had this for you. Merry Christmas and thank you for a lovely day.”
Within this small red box are the seeds of World Peace waiting to be scattered around the world.
Without a single sign of remorse, without a single sign of regret, the evil red present climbed down its victim’s dead, stiff arm, on its way to its next unsuspecting victim.
When the Mailman had arrived that morning, she was still in her Pajamas. She had just finished her bowl of Uncle Sam Cereal, generously sprinkled with both wild dried blueberries and Wheat Germ. She was after all, 43 years old. 43, a stay-at home mother, who’s oldest son was now in College, and her two daughters, still at home, were not far behind. She quickly gathered her Smily pajamas to her chest when the door bell rang, as she was braless, and, crossing her arms over her chest, she peered through the window alongside her front door, to see Grover Milady, mail carrier, stashing the padded manilla envelope between the Barn-Red door and the screen. She pried herself sideways, so as not to be seen, waiting until he was back in the truck to grab the package.
Glancing at the return address, she realized this package wasn’t the one she was expecting. This package had come from Anchorage, Alaska. The town of her Birth. The Town where she had spent her preschool years, her grade school years, her high school and college years. The town where she had succumb to the urges of an under-loved boarding school boy. The boy who had become the father of her first born. The child she had given up. This package was from that Boarding school boy. Now a man. A Man who had changed the face of the fishing industry, by inventing the “Chum-Chucker” an automated bait delivery system.
Peeling back the mucilage-like adhesive with her freshly manicured nails, she paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and removed the bubble-wrapped package from the envelope, untaping it, to reveal a small red cloth wrapped box, with a most intricately delicate bow. She held it in the palm of her hand for a moment, then lifted the lid, left right, left right. Inside, was a four-square folded note.
It read, in determined scrawl, “I’m Sorry.”