The downfall of the story comes when all the other children wake up to find their one present. They, too, had been worried they were going to get nothing for Christmas.
A new wave of thrill hit the Watson home that morning. The second wave was a little more boisterous than the previous one. But, by this time, the thrill of a new toy had already left my grandmother’s girlish face.
This is the part of the story where her face would turn grave and she would tell of the gut-wrenching pain she was forced to feel while she had to watch her siblings dance around with glee. She realized then that celebrating with family was a lot more fun than going solo.
Someone asked me the other day what I wanted for Christmas. I told them I wanted nothing. But what I really wanted to was to say, “All I want for Christmas is to hear my grandmother tell her story one more time, to see her face light up as she tells it and to hear her voice. I want to see her eyes sparkle as she recalls that wild and free morning.” That’s all I want for Christmas.