The Best Gifts Don't Fit Under The Tree

Marley English had learned, at twelve, that growing up didn’t arrive all at once. It came in small recognitions, like noticing the way her mother rubbed her temples when she was thinking, and not just when she was stressed, or how silence could mean comfort instead of loneliness. It came in understanding that love didn’t always look like movies promised—it didn’t always stay in one place. Almost a teenager, Marley was discovering that growth and maturity was less about becoming older, and more about seeing things more clearly.

She lived alone with her mother, Jasmine English, in a spacious three-story home tucked into Baldwin Park, California, just outside the gravitational pull of Hollywood. From the balcony outside her bedroom, Marley could see palm trees leaning lazily toward the sun, their fronds whispering secrets about a life that still felt new. California had been home for five years now, but it still shimmered with possibility in a way Chicago never had.

Jasmine had earned that shimmer. For twelve long years, she had worked her way through the film industry—first as a Production Assistant, then as an Assistant Director—taking jobs that meant fourteen-hour days and cold coffee. While other people slept, Jasmine planned schedules and solved problems, and when the paychecks weren’t enough, she supplemented them with her own vending machine and ATM businesses. Twenty-six machines in total, scattered across office buildings and laundromats in Chicago, and later California, quietly earning while she chased her dream.

When a new film company finally offered her a full-time position as a Film Director—her dream job—it meant moving west. It meant starting over. It also meant leaving Jack behind.

Jack English, Marley’s father, stayed in Chicago. Distance and demanding careers slowly unraveled the romantic part of their relationship, but not the respect or affection. Jack remained in Marley’s life as best he could. He worked as an Electrical Engineer for a well-known aerospace company, a job that demanded precision and long hours. He and Jasmine stayed friends—real friends—checking in on each other, sharing updates, still trusting one another with what mattered most: Marley.

For Marley, the distance felt heavier than she let on. She missed her father in a way that felt like a constant tugging on her heartstrings. They Face Timed often, and Jack never missed a chance to make her laugh or ask about school, her pets, or her latest obsession. He always came for her birthdays when possible, and sometimes for major holidays, though those visits varied year to year.

Jack also loved giving gifts, and Marley knew it. Her trampoline still sat proudly in the backyard. Her tablet and game consoles filled rainy afternoons. Her favorite designer sneakers were lined neatly by the door. But her true pride and joy lived and breathed.

On her eighth For her eighth birthday, Jack had surprised her with an expensive cockatiel parrot, a bright-eyed boy with a yellow crest and an impressive whistle. Marley named him Jack, after her father. The following year, she insisted her pet bird Jack needed a companion. With enough persistence, and a carefully prepared speech, she convinced both parents to buy her another one. That was how Tootsie arrived, a clever female cockatiel with a sharp tongue and a suspicious intelligence-one who seemed to understand far more than she let on.

Her newest addition came last Christmas—2024. Marley had asked for “a cute baby kitten,” never imagining what would actually arrive: A white-and-brown Snowshoe kitten with fur patterned like ribbons of chocolate and caramel. The coloring reminded Marley instantly of a Snickers bar, and because Cinderella was her all time favorite Disney princess, she combined the two names. Snickerella, she named the small feline. The name stuck immediately. Fifteen months old now, Snickerella followed Marley everywhere, her blue eyes alert, her tail expressive, her loyalty absolute. They were practically best friends, conjoined at the hip.

Marley knew how lucky she was. She knew many kids didn’t have parents who could afford such things, or parents who tried so hard despite distance. Because of that, she took caring for her pets seriously. She made sure Jack and Tootsie had fresh food, clean cages, and daily attention. She brushed Snickerella, cleaned her litter box, and never forgot feeding times. She understood responsibility—not because someone told her to, but because she loved them, and they depended on her like she depended on her own parents.

After losing her first, and favorite grandparent, Jasmine's father, Francis, at the start of the year, this Christmas felt especially important. Marley hadn’t seen her father since last Christmas. He’d missed her twelfth birthday and Thanksgiving this year due to work. So this would be the first time in a full year that she could hug him, laugh with him, exist in the same space as him. She couldn't wait.

Four days until Christmas.

Marley counted down in quiet ways—reorganizing her room without being asked, polishing the banister she knew Jack would comment on, and lying on the basement couch with Snickerella curled against her chest. Christmas break stretched out like a promise. Jasmine worked from home when she could, pacing with scripts and notes, but even she felt lighter.

Jack would arrive Christmas Eve afternoon.

The birds sensed it.

“Jack comin’,” Tootsie announced one morning.

“Jack coming home,” Jack the bird echoed proudly.

Marley smiled. “He’s coming.”

Snickerella flicked her tail like she understood as she pranced around in the living room.

Jack would fly in on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

Marley cleaned her room twice without being asked. She reorganized her sneakers. She practiced what she’d say when she hugged him—how tight was too tight? Would she cry? Would he?

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, Marley waited by the window long before Jack’s text came through. Landed. See you soon. Marley jumped up off the couch excited as ever and yelled upstairs to her mom, "He's here!". Jasmine, surprised and unprepared, stuck her head out from behind the shower curtain mid shower and replied, "Wait! He's not supposed to be here yet! He's early! Oh my gosh!". Jasmine began to power wash the rest of her body with her wash cloth so that she could give Jack a proper greeting, until she heard Marley's voice again, "I mean he's here, in California, but he's not HERE here yet!". Jasmine, annoyed, replied, "Maaarrleeeyyyy!", her voice crescendoing. "Please don't tell me anything else about your dad until he's actually here. I could've fell in here trying to hurry myself to get out of the shower!", she yelled down the stairs. "Okaaayyy! Sorry! I can't help it! He's finally here! I mean not at the house, but in California I mean!" Marley laughed at herself, and at her mother. She might not admit it, but Marley knew her mother was just as excited to see Jack.

Thirty-two minutes later, a Lyft car arrived outside. "Okay, mom! He's actually here now, outside!" Marley ran to the door and flew off the porch. The reunion was clumsy and perfect. Jack dropped his suitcase and caught Marley mid-run, lifting her off the ground like she still weighed little to nothing. She buried her face in his jacket and breathed him in—coffee, winter air, something familiar.

“You got taller,” he said, voice thick.

“You got grayer,” she shot back, grinning.

Jasmine watched from the doorway, smiling softly. When Jack hugged her, it was warm and easy—no awkwardness, no bitterness. Just history and mutual respect.

The birds lost their minds with all the excitement.

“Jack! Jack!”, Tootsie screamed as Jack walked inside. As a result, her parrot companion, Jack, called Tootsie's name three times, clearly thinking she was referring to him.

Jack laughed. “She remembers me.”

“She never forgot you,” Marley said.

Snickerella approved immediately, leaping onto Jack’s chest and kneading his sweater as if she owned him.

That evening, they waited for Jack to finish decorating the Christmas tree. He insisted on fixing the lights himself, muttering about “proper spacing” while Marley and Jasmine watched, amused. The house glowed from the inside—twinkling lights, garlands on the staircase, stockings lined neatly along the mantle. Christmas music hummed softly in the background.

They decided on an Ugly Christmas Sweater contest. Jasmine wore a sweater covered in blinking lights shaped like film reels. Marley’s featured a glittery reindeer wearing sunglasses. Jack, however, won decisively—his sweater featured a giant 3D Santa head with a dangling beard and the words “Home for the Holidays.”

“You can’t compete with engineering humor,” he said proudly.

Later, Marley asked if she could open one present early.

Jack spread his arms dramatically. “I’m your only present this year.”

She laughed and hugged him anyway.

They ended the night watching a Christmas movie marathon—classics, animated favorites, and one terrible romcom they all pretended not to enjoy. Marley fell asleep halfway through, Snickerella curled at her side, content.

Christmas morning came fast. Eleven family members from both sides would be joining them later for dinner—their first time seeing Jasmine and Marley’s new California life, and stepping inside the three-story home.

Jasmine had pre-cooked most of dinner ahead of time, storing everything neatly in the fridge. But a mandatory work event pulled her away in the afternoon.

“You two are finishing Christmas dinner,” she said, tying her scarf. “One entrée, one side, and dessert.”

Jack saluted. “We’ve got this.”

Marley grinned. “What dessert?”

Jack’s eyes sparkled. “The infamous one. Your grandfather's messy but very delicious creation. It's been a tradition to make this every year on your mom's side of the family for years now. ”

They decided on a honey-glazed ham for one entrée, homemade apple cranberry sauce from scratch, and the dessert—The Avalanche.

The Avalanche was infamous and legendary in their family. A towering, indulgent bread pudding layered with brownies, marshmallows, caramel, crushed cookies, peanut butter cups, vanilla ice cream, heavy cream, chocolate chips, butter, eggs, and enough sugar to concern medical professionals. It was molten, messy, and beloved.

“It’s why we only make it once a year,” Jack said. “Doctors don't really recommend it.” He laughed, her mouth watered, her eyes big and curious.

While the ham cooked in the oven, and the apple cranberry sauce simmered, Jack meant to change the smoke detector battery, but was easily distracted when Marley convinced him to help her tune the old guitar in the basement. The two partners in crime got carried away bonding, playing music and singing some of their favorite songs to karaoke. The birds sang along upstairs, and Snickerella bobbed her head back and forth in the window while being nosey, watching out for Jasmine to pull up in the drive way after first stopping at the mailbox.

Upstairs, sugar overheated. Butter smoked. A dish towel sat too close to the burner.

When Jasmine returned home around 5 p.m., she smelled it immediately.

The fire wasn’t huge, but it wasn't small either, and it was definitely real. Flames licked at the pan and climbed dangerously close to the cabinets. Jasmine reacted fast—cutting the gas, covering the pan with a lid, and smothering the flames with baking soda.

Jack and Marley ran up from the basement, panic-stricken. Snickerella skidded behind them.

The damage was contained. A scorched stove. Ruined dessert. It could have been far worse. Without a working smoke detector, they’d had no warning.

“I asked you to change the battery,” Jasmine said shakily.

Jack looked ashamed. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Marley’s voice shook too. Feeling responsible for the mess, for begging Jack to play with her, and disturbing his focus, she said quietly, “I should’ve checked.”

Immediately after, Jasmine envisioned her father's face, gone too soon at the beginning of the year, the sound of his voice echoed in here head. She remembered just how short life really was. She was grateful that Marley still had her dad in her life, alive and well.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’re safe. That’s what matters the most. I can replace some things, but I can't replace you two big kids.” Jack slightly grinned, relieved.

She hugged them both.

“What happened?” she asked eventually.

Jack rubbed his neck. “Well…there was a man, and a girl, and a song, and a guitar....”, he was abruptly cut off.

“Jack did it!", "It was Jack!", "Jack's fault! Yep!", "That's it!” Marley's cockatiels, Jack and Tootsie took turns shouting, turning Jack in to the detective, Jasmine.

They froze, Jasmine and Marley stared at each other, and then at Jack. Marley couldn't hold back her laughter...she and her mother both laughed. As ashamed and embarrassed as he was, even Jack couldn't help but to let out a laugh too.

"You know I'll pay for the damages. I messed up," said Jack.

Without hesitation, Jasmine replied, "I know. Thanks for the initiative."

Suddenly the doorbell rang. So much had gone on, Jasmine and Jack lost track of time, of everything. Familiar voices could now be heard outside the door.

They all looked at the burnt kitchen, the empty table, and then each other. Not knowing what they were going to say and how they were going to explain that the family tradition wasn't happening this year. The dessert everybody looked forward every year was in shambles.

“Well,” Jasmine said, smiling, “welcome to California.”

Jack reached for the door. “I mean, hey, we still got ice cream," Jack said to Jasmine and Marley, shrugging his shoulders, his eyebrows raised, "Let’s make it memorable.”

Jack opened the door and family rushed in.

As greetings were being exchanged and obvious questions were asked, Marley softly chuckled at her family's reaction to the mess they'd caused while gently picking up Snickerella. Marley kissed her on the crown of her head, her tail wagging. Marley held her feline friend near and dear, her face wearing a big smile, her heart grateful and full of love, her eyes gleaming with pride.

Focusing on how warm she felt inside at that very moment, despite the big mishap that could have ended very badly, she looked back at all the gifts under the tree still unopened, and thought to herself while looking down at Snickerella, This is what Christmas is really all about. Snickerella suddenly began to purr. She looked back up at Marley and caressed Marley's face with her cheek, almost as if she had read Marley's mind, and shared the same exact sentiment.