The Sadness of Getting What You Want
A reflection into the feeling of ‘hope nostalgia’
When I was a kid, the 133-day stretch between August 12 and December 24 was always my favorite time of year. After my birthday ended, I had another special occasion to look forward to. Those four months glittered with anticipation, with the welcome distraction of looking forward to a time when my whole family would be together and happy and, mostly, fixated on me.
Then, Christmas came. I remember sitting in front of my grandparents’ fireplace when I was nine, surrounded by piles of gifts. It was time for what I had anticipated for so many months: the presents. As my cousins and I tore open our gifts one by one, my excitement started to wane and a strange, heavy sadness crept in to replace it. I so badly wanted to freeze time so I could linger in the anticipation of what could be inside the presents instead of actually living in the reality of now knowing what they were.
Inside was everything I had asked for — an American Girl doll, a black velvet jacket from Gap Kids, and the most hard-to-find Beanie Babies on the market — but inside of me, it felt like a candle had been snuffed out. I didn’t want to play with my new toys or try on my new outfit; I wanted to dream about them during class. I wanted to hope for something. Hoping for something feels…
