by Mara S.

When I was sixteen, I learnt that even humans collect long, white, delicate feathers from the angels’ wings. Not everyone accepts them, but this is not a story about denial, but patience.

I remember Eli, my childhood friend, acting ecstatic for being accepted into a voluntary program during the summer. I got in too, but my enthusiasm didn’t match hers, much rather because I only wanted to win a bet I had with my brother. The things I did for winning…

I had never done voluntary work before, let alone with elderly people, but I wanted to prove Michael wrong. I didn’t.

I intentionally skipped the first half of the initial week just because I was nervous and scared of failure.

”You should see the people there!”, Eli tried to persuade me the third time the fourth day I missed. ”They are simply so nice and I get along with them extremely well. Please?”

I couldn’t resist her plea and, on Friday, I made my debut. Everything was… different. But in a good way. I felt like I had entered a community where everyone was friends with everyone. In a few hours I grew closer to a particular person – Miss Nana, I remember her even now, always wearing a green hand watch – and, by the end of the month, the voluntary center became one of my favorite places to be at. It was a gift. From both myself and the elders. I couldn’t touch it, but I could feel it in my heart, growing each stunning day I came there. I have it even now, as I am writing these words, knowing I’ll treasure forever the kindness I had been shown by the ones who needed me, encouraging me to believe in myself

by Teodora C.

I was waken up by the glorious  sunlight shining on my face through the window. It was beautiful, so I shut the drapes. I didn’t want anything to do with this day. I wanted to just skip it. But that hope went away the second my grandfather came in with a stack of pancackes singing “Happy Birthday”. I wanted to just crawl under the covers and sleep, but the smile on his face wouldn’t let me. We went downstairs and ate the pancackes (they were good, can’t argue with that) and was about to go back to my room, when my grandpa said “Go get dressed and meet me at the car when you’re ready”. Every single muscle of my body was saying “No”!!!! but I pretty much had no other option, so I changed and, about an hour later, I was standing in the passenger seat of my grandfather’s pick-up truck. He sat next to me and we drove for a while, and I was relieved that all this time we didn’t say a word. I was clearly not in the mood, and my grandpa seemed to understand that.

And so, after two muffins and about half an hour of driving, we arrived at what seemed to be some kind of small forest. He got out of the car and took out a basket from the backseat. He signaled me to follow him, so I did. We walked for a while through the woods, until we got to a small cliff. We sat there and my grandfather put his arm around my shoulder and gently said:

“I used to bring your mother here back when she was your age.” A tear rolled down my cheek, as I said with a shaky voice: “Thank you, and held him tight. It was the first birthday since my parents passed away, and he somehow managed to make it the best. And I sat there, happy to receive the best gift I could’ve ever hoped for.

by Vladimir D.

I could only hear the birds chirping and flying through the tree branches and leaves. The little box in front of me didn’t seem too interesting. It was a simple wooden box, covered in dirt.

Before I arrived here, in the middle of nowhere, I had been playing hide-and-seek with my friends. Perhaps they were still somewhere around here… or not. I wasn’t too bothered by that, honestly. After some time, the small box started to gain my interest. I’m not sure if it was actually glowing or not, since many people told me that everything I see or say doesn’t sound real, but I really wanted to open it. And so I did.

A bright light fell upon me. Was it the box? When I took a look at it, it was now gone. A little frog stood in its place. It had a nice hat and fancy boots. “Greetings, friend!” It said, and right after, it continued “I apologise for my rudeness, but I must go. Please leave the box alone next time.” And so, it disappeared. I thought it was another dream of mine, but the little frog had left a red pinecone behind. I took it and ran back home to show it to my friends, who laughed at me, as always. Still, I knew it was my little gift, from the little frog in the little box, for little me.

by Anastasia B.

Have you ever thought about the best gift that you can receive from someone? Do you know that amazing feeling that you have when you open a present? Let me tell you about one of the best experiences that I had last year.

After I had been walking on my way back home for more than 45 minutes, I finally arrived home. A strong feeling of shock gripped me when I realised that the door was already open. I entered the house and I checked it but no one was inside and nothing was missing. I went in the kitchen thinking that I probably had forgotten to lock the door but I was still feeling unconfortable. When I turned back, I saw a strange man in the living room who was staring at me. I became as white as a sheet and I started stammering trying to make him leave but he just came closer and hugged me. After a while, he invited me to sit on the couch next to him and he explained to me that he was the owner of the house where I used to live when I was young. He knew that I had moved here a long time before and he wanted to visit me because he had a special gift for me. He opened his bag and he took a teddy bear from it. I immediately started crying and I checked the back of the toy. Inside it, there was a pink letter from my mom. The man told me: ”Your mother loves you from heaven.” and then he disappeared.

by Smaranda A.

    Shivering, she whispered a weak: ”Thank you”. “No one has ever treated me so kindly in the past fifteen years.”

   One freezing cold winter morning, I headed out, wearing a brand new silky soft scarf, just received for my birthday, from my aunt. I was walking slowly, admiring the numbed land and the fragile snow under my pace. My destination was, of course, the library. I had heard about a new novel from my teacher, and wanted to read it just then. The cold was blurting my senses, making me weak, and red in the cheeks. After a mesmerizing walk, I entered the old dusty room of the library, the fantasy section. It was so cold in that building, there was no wonder no one was there to help me find the book I was so eager to read. Just then, an old poorly dressed lady appeared in front of me. She asked calmly: “ What are you looking for, my dear?”

“Nothing special. A fantasy book I’ veheard you have just brought in.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Follow me!”

Walking behind the old woman, I couldn’t help but feel strange. I had one of the most beautiful scarves for this winter, and she barely had a jacket to wear in the cold. Following her, she led me to some dusty stairs, and said:

“This is where I’m sleeping, I have just finished reading the book darling. There, you can have it”. She gave me the novel, trembling because of the cold. Her hand was frozen, as I touched it hesitantly. Then, I couldn’t help but remember the magic of gift giving, as the season was approaching. In spite of it being almost Christmas, the lady was sleeping in a dusty stairway, shivering under a poor blanket.

             Then, as I wanted to walk outside, too shaken upon what I had witnessed, an idea came to my mind. I went home, that night, and wrapped all the winter clothes I couldn’t wear anymore, a bag of sweets and a puffy huge and heavy blanket. The next day, I went to the lady and told her:

          “As you share your gift with us, children, you deserve a gift yourself”. I then learnt the ways of living, and since then, I have always visited her, and we have tea together once in a while.

by Teodora P.

There are some moments when you start losing yourself simply because you’ve been someone else for such a long time. And you can’t tell people around you what’s wrong because it’s hard watching them not knowing what to do. But somewhere is this world, your story is someone’s survival guide – a gift you constantly have to shape.

I was there, in front of the classroom with my body completely freezing, my mind still fighting to get out of the bunch of thoughts flying round and round. I could feel all my classmates staring at me and waiting for my answer to finally show up on the board, or just for me to say something. I gave them a brief look and curled my fingers around my waist tightly, then decided to write some of the words found on the paper I was holding in my hand. And all of a sudden some kind of wave hit me right in the face and I whispered: `I can’t go on. I…I can’t do it.` No one could hear me, so I took a short breath, writing again a few more letters. I kept telling myself to stay there, but all I’d been listening to since I got there were their laughters, their loud, though faded voices. Then, another breeze hit me, this time harder. I leaned on the board and dropped on my knees dizzily. I managed to hear some of people behind me saying `Maybe she’s too tired.`, `She doesn’t know how to do it.` A little tear fell down my cheek, burning. While trying to wipe it carefully, the wave punched me one more time. I took a deep breath. I breathed twice – it hurt. One more breath – a warm voice embraced me, taking me back to that place, now deeply silent.

`Whenever the thought that you can’t do it comes to your mind, remember what your most precious gift – is your voice. It’s right there, in your soul, in your body, in your being.`

There are some moments when you start losing yourself simply because you’ve been someone else for such a long time. And even if it’s hard to talk with people around you, there will be someone to hear your words even when you’re quiet. My gift was still there, waiting for me to open it. I just needed to remember that my voice is what makes me who I am.

by Casandra P.

A gift. It was only a gift, and yet here I am writing about it to you, dear gentle reader.

   I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, and I’ve been dreaming that one day or night, someone will come to my door and offer me something that I’ll never forget. High school with halls full of drama won’t give me a sign or a light to cross my path, to show true romance. But I’m exaggerating, that’s for sure.

   Allow me to begin again. One night. One beautiful starry night, I was all alone. Only the moon was turning its face towards me. I heard a sound like a little humming. My room was suddenly filled with it, and my heart, beating with hope and dreams, told me to go to the window and seek the one calling me. I froze. I thought I was dreaming. A person I’d never seen before, holding a present was singing to me, no, it was singing for me and the stars.

   I heard it say, “Come down, my dear star!” And I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m mad crazy but let me finish. As I was saying, once I got downstairs, the person handed me the gift. I wanted to say thank you, but the person disappeared. Inside the gift there was a quote that said : “Love is hard to find, you might lose patience waiting for it to come, but once you have it, once you find it you’ll never want to lose it or forget it”    It got to my heart. From then on, I’ve been waiting and waiting and waiting, but I’m happy. It’s a gift that I’ll never forget or lose.