Thom’s Gift

Thom was my best friend and my bitterest rival. He could be nice and mean almost in the same heartbeat. Sometimes I hated him but always loved him. He was, afterall. my brother. When I was 9, or thereabouts, he gave me a Christmas present I’ll never forget.

It was the biggest package under the tree. Haphazardly wrapped as only a boy can do. It weighed practically nothing, did not rattle when shaken, and somehow filled me with dread. It was from HIM.

When the time came to open our gifts I purposely avoided his. Finally that was the only thing left. Everyone sat there watching me. Thom sat on the arm of the couch looking like a grinning condor ready to swoop down on my lifeless body. I did the only thing I could do. Cautiously tearing away the paper, and opening the box.

And there, nestled in a bunch of crumpled newspapers was another box. Here we go again. And again. All told there were four boxes. The last one was a match box. There couldn’t be another box inside, but the mystery of no rattling had been answered. Nothing could have been heard through all the boxes and newspapers cradling it.

Slowly I slid the matchbox open. Gleaming up at me wasn’t the big bug I had decided was there…but a brand new shiny house key. The key that meant I was no longer the baby who always had to be with someone else. The key that said that I was one of the big kids in the neighborhood.