THE LAST LETTER

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 20 // 𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑜𝑒

《Girl, something here is different,
I couldn't hide it if I, to hide it if I to; Girl, this ain't even Christmas I can't, believe that is the first Christmas that I loved you.

First Christmas - Shameik Moore》

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Hamilton Wright Mabie once said, 'Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!' and he couldn't be more right. I knew I wasn't supposed to be quite so thrilled about this Christmas morning because I was old enough for it, but guess what? No one is ever too old for Christmas Eve, and this was my first Christmas with Lucas as my boyfriend. I had bought ourselves a membership of an Italian restaurant downtown where the members received a treat of dinner once a year, complete with pasta, sauce, and either an appetizer, a dessert, or special dipping oil. It was a three-membership card that meant Lucas and I could go on three dates to that Italian restaurant. I had been saving for this since last year, even though I had no clue that things were going to change for the better.

My Grandma used to tell me, 'giving is better than receiving,' but I had always thought that it was nonsense. Getting presents was the whole point of Christmas, right! It was the reason I couldn't get to sleep the night before Christmas Eve. Last night wasn't any different as I kept wondering about what Lucas would've bought for me.

It was evening, as Liza and I started getting ready for dinner. I wore a beautiful blue long gown, and Liza got dressed in a lavender dress. We arrived downstairs after getting ready to see Mom and Anna busy in the kitchen while Lucas helped Paul with the pending decorations. Soon we had our dinner served. It included traditional turkey, sweet potatoes lightly glazed with brown sugar, and a final wedge of pumpkin pie topped with a dollop of ice cream. The good cooking smell lingered in the air, and the oven remained warm. My Mom and Anna did a fantastic job preparing the food as we all ate contentedly. Later, we all relaxed around the dining table after dinner, talking about the food and the decoration.

After cleaning up, we sat in a semi-circle and started opening presents one by one so everyone could "appreciate" each other's gifts. That has been our tradition for years and I loved and enjoyed every part of it.

"Here's another one for you," Mom said, handing me a package. I looked at it, confused. Having spent so much time examining the presents before Christmas, I recognized this one. But it had not been mine. It was my mom's that she had kept in her room for years now that I remember, and it wasn't unpacked yet. A new label had been put on it, with my name written over it.

"Mom, I can't..."

I was stopped by my mother's eager, joyful look, a look I could not understand. "Let's see what it is, honey. Hurry and open it. Your dad wanted to give this to you on your Christmas present when you were old enough for it."

Dad saved a gift for my eighteenth Christmas. It was a thoughtful gesture and I couldn't contain the emotions running inside me as I opened the package. It was a vintage champagne bottle. Though this may seem like a simple gift, to me it was so much more, I was stunned. In my world, where receiving outweighed giving, by light years, my dad's present was most precious to me. It was a considerable act. Tears filled my eyes, and I thought in disbelief about how much my dad must've loved me to save me a present for my growing up, and all I wished for was him by my side, giving me his present himself.