There was only one present left under the tree, and it wasn’t big enough to be the racetrack that Billy wanted. It’d been the only thing he’d asked for this year, too. Well, not the only thing, but the only important thing. His parents should have known that. He fought to keep the scowl off of his face as he pulled the tiny box in its plain red paper out and held it in his hand. The tag claimed that it was from Santa, but Billy recognized his mother’s handwriting.
He tore the paper away and opened the box. A ball of light rested inside. Billy touched it, and soothing warmth seeped into his fingertips. The feeling spread up through his hand to his chest, and the light vanished.
Billy looked down at his pile of presents, and he realized that they weren’t what Christmas was really about. It was a holiday about giving and love and family. He looked over at his parents’ smiling faces, and he couldn’t remember why he’d been grumpy a second ago. He ran to his parents and hugged them. He loved Christmas.