While out to lunch yesterday, my parents asked me what I would want for Christmas if I could have anything. It was one of those hypothetical, limitless questions I find so fun and invigorating. Anything? I thought about it, tossing ideas around as I thought aloud, purse, computer, clothing, boots, music. I finished my musing with a self-deprecating smile and a shrug and said, “Honestly, I’m pretty happy.” They smiled and the conversation turned to other things.
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When they asked that question, my mind automatically turned to things. Goods. That’s what you think of when someone asks you what you want for Christmas. And no one thing, no single item, inspired in me the kind of hunger that qualified such an item. Nothing came to mind that made something in me click and whisper, “Ah!” and I was a little disappointed. I always like reaching an answer to those types of questions. But there it was.
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I pondered the question later, though, driving home from my lovely Thanksgiving break at my parents’ house, and the answer slid into my mind with that corresponding click I had been waiting for before.
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I want to be in love for Christmas. That is the Christmas present I want above all others. I don’t need the boots or the DVD or the computer or the purse. What I want is to be head over heels in love with a man who’s topsy-turvy for me. I want to be kissed for Christmas.
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And if you took everything else on my Christmas list, I would still be replete. That is what I want for Christmas.
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