The Trembling Gift
It has become a habit of mine over the years to make gifts for friends and family for Christmas, and this year my spouse, Erin, and I wrote, designed, illustrated, and produced home made Christmas chapbooks. This was a wonderful process! I thoroughly enjoyed writing the story and, astonishingly, the writing part came together rather fast. Perhaps the best part about the writing process of this short story was that, like our friend Earl in the narrative, I got to explore my “issues” with gift giving. Astute readers will certainly pick up on my Derridean and Whiteheadian influences. Please enjoy!
Chapter 1: Issues with gifts
Once there was a family of mice who lived in a small village in the forest, and every Christmas they got very excited to give each other gifts. This year, though, a young mouse was old enough to give presents to his loved ones on his own but he did not feel thrilled to do so. Earl was a sensitive and bright little fellow who did a lot of reading, followed by a lot of thinking. However, this process often resulted in a tendency for Earl to get quite worked up. He liked giving gifts of course, and definitely liked receiving them, but Earl couldn’t help but wonder if there was a way to give the perfect gift. You see, Earl had caught on early to how the whole logic of gift-giving went, and this morning, two days before Christmas, he was discussing it over some Frosted Cheddar O’s with his big brother, Quin.
“What do you mean you have ‘issues’ with gift-giving? Everyone likes getting presents, right? And if you stop giving people presents eventually no one’s gonna give you a present, Earl. Get it?”
Earl blinked in response to his big brother’s attempt at helpful advice but he couldn’t help but take the remark as condescending, and he silently shook his head, feeling absolutely deflated about how ignorantly unaware Quin was of how selfish his remark made him sound. ‘How could this kid be nine minutes older than me?’ Earl wondered.
“I do like getting gifts, very much! And I like giving them, in many ways that’s the best part” Earl said sincerely. “It’s just that I wish there was some way to keep the excited feeling I have right before I get a gift, or give one. Do you know what I mean?”
Quin chuckled and replied, “Yeah I hear you. I like that feeling too. It’s that feeling of not knowing what the gift could be.”
“Yeah that’s what I’m talking about. It’s like a wondrous mystery!” Earl was beginning to feel a bit better about things, happy at the thought that his brother could still identify with him. “And the part I hate about Christmas gifts, or any kind of gift-giving really, is that the feeling never lasts.”
“Uh huh. Because right after you get a gift or give a gift the excitement disappears,” Quin snapped his fingers then lowered his voice in a suspicious way, “especially if it’s Aunt Gertrude’s moldy cheese spread!” Quin’s face transformed into a Mr. Yuck sticker and both young mice snickered just as their father walked in.
“Good morning my little mice. What’s all this laughter about?”
Mr. Mouse was tall – for a mouse – and had a lovely brown mustache that all the other mice with mustaches revered a great deal; even those without mustaches thought it was splendid. In fact he had recently won his first mustache competition and the local news website, Cheddarton Action News (CAN), had contacted Mr. Mouse about doing an interview and today was the big day.
“Earl has ‘issues’ with gift giving, Dad, and I was just giving him some helpful advice.” Quin elbowed Earl hard in ribs causing him to wince.
“Well the reporter will be here in a few hours for my interview and I would appreciate it if you all stayed out of the office when she’s here. My mustache is a natural gift and the world needs to know about it without any interruptions.” Mr. Mouse finished his stern remark and then glided across the kitchen floor, sat at the table with his tea and dove into his ipad to read the morning news.
Just then two more young mice walked into the kitchen. Earl’s younger twin sisters, Urla and Perla, were six minutes younger than Earl; they were always together and seemed to share one brain.
“Are you two talking about giving gifts?” Urla asked excitedly.
“Yup. Earl is old enough to give gifts on his own this year” Quin replied.
Urla smiled and spoke with squeaky but feverish confidence, “I heard that when reciprocating a gift, it should be of roughly equal value as giving too little signifies that you don’t value the relationship, while giving too much means that you overvalue it which might cause feelings of embarrassment.”
“I heard that too,” Perla interjected, showing concurrence by raising a finger.
Earl was beginning to feel worried again. “But I was always told that it’s the thought that counts.”
“Sure, the intent matters, Earl,” Perla said, “but gifts are symbolic too you know.”
“Yea!” squeaked Urla, “and now that you’re old enough to give gifts on your own you might want to think pretty hard about it because if you give a gift to someone and they hate it you know people will think it’s thoughtless despite your good motives, Earl.”
“She’s right, Earl,” Perla agreed matter of factly.
As Earl sat there eating his soggy Frosted Cheddar O’s, feeling quite distressed, his eyes happened to focus on the bottom left corner of the cereal box where there was a starburst shape with words that read “You’ll never guess the prize inside!” Just then Earl got a brilliant idea. He decided that he would attempt to give his family the perfect little gift this year which he hoped might capture the anticipation of Christmas forever.
Chapter 2: The Perfect Little Gift
When Earl awoke it was the morning before Christmas and he knew he had a lot of work ahead of him. Santa Claus brought gifts Christmas morning but Earl’s family had a tradition every year to give their gifts to each other right after dinner on Christmas Eve, so that meant he only had 10 hours or so to create his perfect little gift. Thankfully Earl was old enough and capable enough to have finished his regular gift preparation months beforehand. Afterall, Earl was very thoughtful, and he kept his ears open around the holidays. His parents were getting the matching mouse sized mittens he heard them remark about; His sisters, Urla and Perla, were getting a subscription to the monthly STEM toy box which they once saw an ad for on SqeakTube and then never shut up about; Quin was getting a poster of his favorite tv show “Fire Socks’’ about a mouse named Socks who has a fiery tail and also, in Earl’s opinion, told quite a fiery tale! But the perfect little gift would require some new materials to create and Earl knew just where he needed to go.
Rushing out of his bedroom barely dressed, Earl bounded down the steps and almost crashed into his mother upon entering the kitchen who was just putting some cheesy pancakes on the breakfast table.
“Oh my, watch it love! You’re in quite a hurry there, Earl. Where are you off to?” Mrs. Mouse inquired.
Earl had to think quickly because he didn’t want anyone to catch on to his little scheme.
“Er, nowhere, Mom,” said Earl, trying hard to concoct a plan on the spot.
“Well you’re obviously going somewhere. You almost crashed into me running outside without your coat.” Mrs. Mouse handed the coat to Earl then turned around and slapped the remaining hotcakes on a plate and yelled “Breakfast!”
Before Mrs. Mouse could swing back around, Earl was shoving hotcakes in his mouth and blurting out something barely discernible, “I’m going sledding with Roger, Mom. See you later bye!”
“Be back before dinner!” Mrs. Mouse yelled as Earl disappeared out the door and into the snowy forest.
Earl felt reluctant about lying to his mother but he knew it was the only way to hatch his plan without raising suspicion; his mother was well aware of how often he and his friend, Roger, spent time together, especially in the winter, so it was highly unlikely that Mrs. Mouse would raise an eyebrow. Besides, he really only had a few stops to make, and the more he thought about it the more Earl began to believe that his perfect little gift might not be such a burden to pull together after all.
His first stop was a little store in the center of town called Boxes by Foxes, owned by a lovely old Fox named Jasper and his husband Winston. Earl loved going to this particular store because all of the boxes that were neatly placed in the grid-like shelving, which lined the walls, simply filled him with a feeling of glorious geometric glee upon entering. Earl waved at the two old foxes as he entered, and after explaining what it was he was looking for, the two foxes smiled sweetly, nodded and began filling a bag with the exact size boxes he requested. When they were through, Earl thanked the foxes, paid them, and quickly hurried on his way.
Earl’s next stop was the art and office supply store called Artsy Fartsy Mart, a quaint little place run by a badger named Monk, who always had paint on his clothes. Earl didn’t have time to talk to Monk, however, but as a consolation he waved at the owner while he quickly rushed around the store grabbing what it was that he needed. When he was finished he walked to the counter to pay for his items. Monk, his half moon spectacles perched at the end of his snout, eyed Earl approaching and said, “Hello Earl, I see your father’s interview will be online tonight. Can’t wait to watch it! He really does have a nice stache, you know, that old mouse of yours.”
“Thank you Mr. Monk, I’ll tell him you said so. I told Dad that since people like his mustache so much he should consider creating action figures based on his famous whiskers” Earl smiled, waiting to see if Monk liked his idea any more than his father did when he had shared it with him – which wasn’t very much.
Monk’s belly chuckle filled the air with a warm deep tone and he looked at Earl and said, “Now that’s a good idea, Earl! When he’s ready to make those figures, tell him to come down here and I’ll help him pick out the supplies he’ll need, ha ha!”
Smiling and nodding in affirmation as Monk handed him a bag filled with his items, Earl snatched it and rushed out of the door on his way to his next stop: the hideout to assemble, wrap, and address his gifts. Luckily it wasn’t too far away. Two blocks north and three blocks to the west, through the abandoned parking lot, up the dirt path and through the portal of the old gnarled tree. This was where Roger and Earl would hide, pretend, and play. No one knew about it except for them and it was the ideal place for Earl to assemble his perfect little gifts.
Before long the hideout was littered with shiny bits of wrapping paper and strips of red ribbon, and with all things considered it took Earl only a half hour or so to assemble his perfect little gifts. The problem now was that Earl needed a way to get these packages delivered without anyone being able to trace them back to him. That was the key! In other words, Earl wanted these gifts to be anonymous because then and only then, he thought, would they be a step closer to capturing the feeling of eternal mystery that only a true gift could bring.
As Earl paced around the hideout he heard a loud horn blast outside. Peaking out of the tree and seeing a Mouse on the Move delivery truck parked behind a car, which was stopped at a red light that had long since turned green, the answer became clear. Earl would simply arrange to have the packages delivered anonymously at precisely 7:30 pm, when he and his family would be done eating Christmas Eve dinner. Without wasting any more time, Earl quickly scurried around the room and collected his scraps, then carefully placed his neatly wrapped gifts into a large sack. If he hurried he could get to Mouse on the Move before they closed early for the Holiday.
Chapter 3: Christmas Eve
Earl arrived home after dropping off his gifts at Mouse on the Move – taking full advantage of their same-day shipping Holiday special – with ten minutes to spare before dinner. He snuck in unnoticed and scurried upstairs as fast as he could to get ready. It wouldn’t be long before his mother would be calling the children down to the table, Earl guessed, because he could smell the delightful aroma of her home cooked cheese and spinach casserole. Earl inhaled deeply and hoped they would be having pumpkin pie cheesecake for dessert like they did last year. The delightful smells around the Holidays always made Earl feel pleased to be home with his loved ones. Just then a terrible sound echoed through the upstairs hallway that nearly rattled Earl’s teeth. He turned to observe Quin walking toward him at high speed laughing, a waft of putrid flatulence trailing behind him. Earl held his nose, cringed and thought that he must make every further effort to avoid that Holiday aroma.
Like years past in Earl’s home, Christmas Eve dinner did not take long. The young mice ate with brisk determination in an effort to get to the presents that lay just beyond, and as they were finishing dinner the doorbell rang. An alarmed silence suddenly filled the air but Mr. Mouse spoke with steady reassurance, “It’s all right, it’s all right, It’s probably just one of my adoring fans who saw me on the news.” He then paused, thought for a moment stroking his mustache in a rather apprehensive way, and said “Wait a minute. They may want me to sign their mustache, or some other body part for that matter! Earl, fetch me a pen quickly would you, please?” Earl rolled his eyes while Mr. Mouse made his way to answer the door.
“Who was it, dear?” Asked Mrs. Mouse three minutes later when hearing the door close on her way back to the dining room from the kitchen.
“Just a delivery person, darling! Dropping off a bag of what I can only assume are gifts from all of my adoring fans, ” Mr. Mouse said smiling, looking very proud as he boastfully strolled back to the dining room holding a large sack.
“No they’re not!” squeaked Urla, snatching a small box wrapped with a red ribbon from the sack her father was holding. “This one has Perla’s name on it,” she said.
“And this one has Urla’s name on it,” Perla squeaked, her head now buried in the sack as she ripped another gift out and handed it to her sister.
“These all have our names on them!” Quin said, all of the children now fully engaged with inspecting the contents of the sack.
“Well perfect,” said Mrs. Mouse “We’re about ready to open our gifts anyway. They’re probably from Aunt Gertrude, more of her delicious cheese spread I hope.” Mrs. Mouse hopped off to the kitchen, carrying the remaining plates from the table, while the rest of the family left the dining room to gather their gifts.
The Mouse family reconvened in the living room around the tree five minutes later, all of them feeling as enticed and excited as could be about the little mysteries they were soon to unwrap. Earl’s sack lay in the middle of the room, the perfect little gifts spilling out across the carpet. The children all agreed that they should start with the surprise gifts, so one at a time each member of the family picked up the gift that had their name written on it in Earl’s beautiful and unrecognizable calligraphy. Of course Earl even took the time to make one for himself in order to throw everyone off his scent, so he scurried over to the sack feigning the cheerful jubilance of his siblings as he snatched up his gift and said, “I wonder who these are from?”
“Let’s find out!” Quin roared with delight as he ripped the gift open without delay.
Earl’s joy and anticipation reached some very high levels at that moment as he watched his family opening his perfect little gifts. All that work and this was the moment he was waiting for, he was absolutely thrilled! Then, one by one, he watched his family’s excited, gleeful faces transform slowly into befuddlement as they peered inside the boxes to find a small, single sheet of paper in each one not much bigger than a fortune found in a cookie, which read:
Your true gift is yet to come.
“What the heck does this mean?!?” Quin said loudly, visibly confused.
“What does yours say, dear?” Mr. Mouse asked Mrs. Mouse, looking completely puzzled.
Mrs. Mouse, looking just as puzzled, leaned over to look at Mr. Mouse’s paper, “Mine says ‘Your true gift is yet to come,’ same as yours. Hmm, maybe these aren’t from Gertrude afterall.”
“Mine says that too,” Urla jumped in, “maybe they’re gift cards or coupons or something?” she pondered.
“Maybe someone got us subscription boxes!” Perla yelled almost maniacally.
“Maybe they’re from the news website who interviewed me,” Mr. Mouse said hopefully. “I know my interview must have gotten them lots of clicks.”
“Or maybe this is just a dumb joke,” Quin interrupted sarcastically, dropping his box into the pile of gift wrap scraps at his feet.
Sensing the negative turn and wanting to put a positive spin on things Earl thought quickly and said, “Well, we don’t know who sent these gifts so maybe we do have another gift coming. That’s exciting isn’t it?”
“Way to be optimistic, Earl!” his father rang out. “Yes let’s open the rest of our gifts and maybe by then our “true gift” will be here.”
The Mouse family took their time opening their remaining gifts and enjoying each other’s company that evening, all the while never ceasing to throw out a theory every so often about who sent the surprise gifts, why, or if there would be any more. Earl enjoyed all the gifts he received from his family, but the glowing lightsaber chopsticks from Urla and Perla stood out as a clear favorite. His sisters really did take gift-giving seriously, Earl thought. How could they have known, Earl wondered, that he would delight endlessly in eating his favorite food, sushi, with utensils that could skin a Tauntaun open for warmth if need be?
As Earl lay in bed that night he struggled with some agonizing questions that remained regarding his perfect little gifts. Although his family seemed to have a positive attitude toward them for the time being, Earl knew the days to come would reveal more about his family’s various feelings about the gifts – which would probably fluctuate and change from time to time and place to place – and he had two concerns. For one, Earl worried that he would be found out. After-all It wouldn’t take much, he knew. Even though his father rarely shopped there, talking to Monk at the art store is really all that it would take, Earl thought. For another thing, even if everything did go well and Earl wasn’t uncovered as the secret gift giver, there was one issue that he, up until now, had not let himself confront: how long could he honestly keep up the charade? How long before his family became seriously irritated, or perhaps even scared, at receiving a secret gift every year containing a cryptic note?
No matter. Questions for another time, Earl thought. Tonight was Christmas Eve and Earl would let nothing spoil the feeling of anticipation that verged on being downright overwhelming, which he felt at this very moment. Earl lay there, his body trembling in expectation, as he tossed and turned and hoped beyond hope for the fast arrival of Christmas morning.
It wasn’t long before Earl had drifted off to sleep and began to dream. In the dream Earl awoke and heard a sound coming from downstairs. He followed the sound to where the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree filled the living room with an enchanted glow. Under the tree, where there had been placed a plethora of gifts that had not been there before, Earl found the source of the sound: a trembling gift wrapped in gold. Earl approached the gift with great uncertainty as it shook in place, and just as he was about to lift the lid of the gold box it popped off by itself and a winged creature flew out. The furry creature was purple and the size of a loaf of bread, with cat-like eyes and ears but wings and a tail like that of a dragon.
The furry little creature flew around the room and then, seeming to sense Earl’s terror, landed on the arm of Mr. Mouse’s chair and spoke softly, “Do not be afraid, Earl, for I know of your distress,” they said.
Shaking uncontrollably, Earl managed to open his mouth and mutter the words, “Are you an angel?”
The furry little angel chuckled and said, “Yes, Earl. And I am here to share with you the True Gift, which is a secret never opened. It is a gift that continues to bring the possibility of the impossible into the World year after year. The True Gift is an encounter that brings you face-to-face with the unknown; it exceeds any seeing or knowing, and is freely given. This is the Gift that defines Christmas, Earl, and in each moment The Divine saves the World, giving us a wonderful offering. With tender patience She leads us to places of beauty and truth, goodness and grace, depth and love that have yet to be known.”
Earl tried desperately to shake himself out of the mystified daze that he was in after the furry little angel finished addressing him so he could respond, but as the daze wore off his dream began to fade as well. He awoke to the raucous sounds of his siblings already downstairs apparently miles ahead of him on Christmas morning presents. As Earl made his way downstairs listening to his family’s cheerful voices he noticed that, as always, the overwhelming anticipation he had felt the night before was gone, but it had indeed given way to immense joy.
Arriving late was not an issue and Earl dove into the holiday activities without missing a step. Before long Mr. Mouse had on his favorite Irish folk-mouse Christmas album by The Dublin Mouskers, Mrs. Mouse had her traditional Christmas cheese logs on the griddle, and Quin was watching the Christmas special of Fire Socks. The living room was overflowing with paper and unwrapped boxes, and as Earl waded through the rubbish looking for presents he might have overlooked a golden glint caught his eye under some paper. Earl lifted the paper to find the golden trembling gift from his dream. Unable to believe his eyes, Earl ripped off the lid to find the furry little angel in plush form. Earl picked up the furry little angel and hugged them tight.
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