by Kelly Risser
It was the week before Christmas, and I was getting desperate. In between going to school, cramming for exams, writing to Kim, and talking to Evan, I spent all of my free time online, desperately searching for his gift. Nothing seemed right. I wanted something unique. I tried not to let it show when I was around him how much trouble I was having finding his present. It didn’t help that he gloated about how he found me the perfect present. How could I compete with perfect?
Everyone else was easy. I bought a new cookbook from some up-and-coming American chef for Grandma Mary, a thick, flannel coat for Grandpa Jamie, and a pair of silver hoop earrings for Katie. I sent Kim a sweater from Gap, the one that she had hinted more than once that she liked. I bought my mom a new robe. It was lavender and plush. I tried it on in the store, and it was like wrapping up in a cloud. She was going to love it.
I made another present for my mom, something more personal. It was a scrapbook. To be honest, it was a gift for both of us—something for her to enjoy now, and for me to have to remember all the good times when she was gone. I equally laughed and cried as I created it.
I bought David a sweater. I shouldn’t have bothered. The day after I bought it, he practically ordered me not to get him anything. He claimed that he traveled light and would probably have to leave it behind anyway. Whatever. He could be so weird sometimes. It ticked me off that he hadn’t told me anything. Apparently, soon in his world meant a lot longer than mine.
