Personal Narrative Essay: The Gift Of A Christmas Gift

The winter season was upon us. Snow fell, Christmas decorations were up, and our spirits were high. My brother, Milan, and I loved the holiday season. Spending time with our family, opening gifts, playing in the snow; it was all like a dream come true. Every year, we made our own wish lists, decorating them in green and red stickers. Although, for the last few years, all we wanted was one simple gift, in our opinion. It was a puppy. A puppy that would run around in our house and backyard, tennis ball stuffed in his mouth and the look of joy on his cute puppy dog face. It was the only thing I truly ever wanted; however, my parents constantly stressed that it was too much of a responsibility since my brother and I were at a fairly young age.

“We wanted to give you an early Christmas gift. It’s for the both of you, so you can both open it up under the tree,” my dad explained as he whipped out a small rectangular box from behind his back.

“Cool!” my brother hollered as he and I made our way to the present. I carefully took it from my dad’s hands and began to wonder, “What is this? Let me shake it first.” I tossed the present in between my hands, feeling the smooth wrapping paper underneath my warm fingers. I then handed it over to Milan, hoping he would figure out what it was. But like me, he had no clue.

“Can we open it?” I questioned my parents.

“Yes! Go ahead!” they exhorted. Together, my brother and I tore the red and gold wrapping paper to reveal an unadorned wooden box.

“What’s this?” I asked in a surprised tone.

“I think it’s a jigsaw puzzle! And there’s something ringing in there!” Milan yelled out with bundles of joy.

“Try to solve it!” my parents cried out. We got started right away. The two of us took turns trying to pry the box open, but nothing seemed to work. Seconds went by, then minutes and hours. My fingers were aching, my wrist became stiff, and I knew I couldn’t endure the pain for much

Let me see if I could help you,” my mom said as she entered the room. She sat down next to me and took the box from my lap. Then, she began to endeavor to open the box, pushing wooden blocks around and placing her fingers in peculiar positions. It was too much for my mind to process at the time. At last, the box clicked open.

Milan and I gasped simultaneously. It was a dog collar. A shiny red dog collar with black paw prints placed all over it.

“Oh. My. God. Thank you Mom and Dad! I love you so much!” the two of us screamed as we ran around the room hugging our parents.

“Tomorrow we were planning on going to some of the local animal shelters to find our new dog! Why don’t you two start looking at different dog breeds,” my mom excitedly announced as my dad stood behind the camera, capturing this priceless memory.

We sprinted to our family shared computer and went to work instantaneously, searching up every dog breed we could think of. However, we knew we wanted a small dog that was hypoallergenic, which means he/she doesn’t shed.

“What about a Poodle? Or a Shih Tzu?” my brother suggested.

“Wait! What about this one!?” I pointed out one specific picture on the bright computer screen. It was a Morkie. Half YorkShire terrier, half Maltese. It was absolutely perfect for our