I’ve had a pretty uneventful childhood. I stayed inside and wasted my time in front of a game console and a bright, flashy screen. I confined myself in a dark, noisy room, covered in chip crumbs and Root Beer spillage, away from my family and the small group of friends I had. That was me a little over a year ago. I suspected I was going to change my solitary way of life sooner or later. I was prepared to come across an inspirational speaker or even read some heart-felt quote that would lead me onto the right track. I never would have guessed that this big bang of realization in my mind would be caused by a petite, three inch, University of Michigan Football Nutcracker.
It began on a cold, cloudy day around mid-March of last year. I was sitting in a room that I had never been in before. It was new, but yet so familiar. The room was lit by candles and the faint sunlight that had been bleeding through the colorful, stained-glass windows. The ceiling hung high above my head and got darker for every inch farther away it was from my puzzled face. It was like looking into a trench but instead, the trench was looking down on me. Rows of lengthy, wooden benches were filled by truck loads of family and friends. There were enough people that we could have caused a ruckus that would travel across the town, but the room was dead silent. Gazing at the crowd revealed countless different expressions of shock and sorrow. Some buried their faces in the palms of their hands while others sat straight with a blank face that was almost sadder than those letting their emotions run wild. We were all gathered here today say our final goodbyes to my Aunt, Cuckoo.
Vickie was her biological name, but we all called her Cuckoo. It wasn’t to call her crazy like a cuckoo clock, it was just her nickname and I don’t really know why. Cuckoo was around her late 60’s when she passed away. She had short brown hair with streaks of silver. Her face resembled that of a Saint Bernard’s’ with saggy cheeks and tired eyes. She was the kind of sweet-looking old lady that you would see wearing a turtle-neck and a different intricately-decorated sweater vest for every holiday. That’s exactly the type of old lady she was, and she rocked those sweater vests.
  Cuckoo had 2 different sides to her personality. First, she had her everyday persona that was the sweet old elementary school teacher that loved kids and loved spending time with her family. She was very timid and humble when she was in this mode. But yet, she always had this craving for adventure that she would fulfill by going on vacations with us no matter how far away from home they were. She would be like this until it was finally football season. Her second persona was a full-blown Michigan Football fan. This is where her competitive side would shine the brightest. She was such a fun and loving person. I would list more positive adjectives but that would require me to use every one from the dictionary. She was so involved in our lives that she was so much more than just an aunt. She was like a second grandmother, except she didn’t spoil us with as many sweets, so she was like a second mother in that sense. It was so eerie to see this amazing person in my life suddenly lay in a coffin surrounded by blue and gold flowers with her hands laid over one another on her stomach as if she was only sleeping.
Months slowly passed by and holidays weren’t as upbeat as they used to be. The family was still accepting the fact that Cuckoo wasn’t going to be making an appearance anymore, outside of the memories we have of her. We all knew that Cuckoo wouldn’t want that though. She’d want us to party on and continue our holidays with smiles on our faces. We did this to the best of our ability with that idea in our minds. I don’t think that it was until Christmas that our smiles were genuinely true.
Everybody was happy for Christmas. It was the time to show your love for one another and share stories around the Christmas tree. The sweet smell of gingerbread and cookies floated through the house and teased our nostrils. Rooms were lit by the soft glowing of candles to reveal the colorful decorations and the vast amount of nutcrackers scattered around the rooms. Why so many nutcrackers you ask? It has been a family tradition to gift me with a nutcracker or sometimes more every Christmas. I’ve been collecting nutcrackers every year since I was 7. I just love all of the unique designs they possess. I’m hoping to reach my goal of 100 nutcrackers someday. I’m already more than half way there.
It was getting late and everybody had opened their gifts from underneath the Christmas tree. It was time for the main event. This year, we were divvying up Cuckoos’ belongings through Secret Santa. Almost all of the gifts were revealed to be some sort of Michigan merchandise: blankets, mugs, shirts, stuffed-animals, signs, flags, ornaments, accessories, trinkets, etc.; you name it, she had it.
My uncle, Richie, had unwrapped a mysterious football-sized box. It was a dark, oak box that had the Michigan “M” carved into the top and painted to resemble gold. He peered inside to find the Michigan marching band moving around in a formation to the Michigan Fight Song on a detailed football stadium with a full crowd. It was a giant music box. I was mesmerized by its intricacy and small detail. While everybody continued taking their turns, from oldest to youngest, to claim another gift or steal one from someone else, I had my eyes on that music box.
My turn was finally up and I had begun making my way to my uncle. The only clear shot I had was around the table where Cuckoos’ presents had been stacked. All I had on my mind was how cool that music box would look on my shelf next to my bed. I had made my way next to the table where I saw the last present sitting. I didn’t think much of it. It was the smallest box of them all. I eyed it for a second and then continued my stride for the music box. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. I can’t explain why. It was an unexplainable feeling of curiosity about that last, tiny box. I eyed it again for an even longer duration and then looked back at Richie. I looked into his eyes and saw his fear of me taking away the music box. I just couldn’t do it. Not on Christmas. I grabbed the tiny box.
What could be left? It wasn’t big enough to hold a blanket or stuffed animal. It wasn’t the right shape to contain some sort of clothing piece or accessory. Maybe it’s an ornament or a small trinket of some sort, but what would I do with those? No matter what it was, I would have cherished it in some way to honor Cuckoo. I was scared that it would be something too difficult for me to figure out what to do with because I wouldn’t care much for what it was. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and unwrapped the gift. I immediately hear everyone around me gasp in shock. I didn’t know whether to be scared or excited. I slowly open my eyes to reveal a petite, three inch, University of Michigan Football Nutcracker.
I don’t know what to say or do. I go dumb for a few seconds in shock. My legs feel numb and my heart begins to race. All I could do was burst out into tears and laugh like an insane person. This was a real life moment where the saying “big things come in small packages” actually applied! This was the best gift I could have asked for!
I never really believed in an afterlife before that Christmas. I never would have even considered the idea, but the fact that the last present left was a nutcracker and I was the one to open it was just too coincidental for me to not at least have some sort of speculations today. This nutcracker had to be a final gift to me from Cuckoo. It just had to be. It had to have been a message from her that she’s still with us and watching over us. I carry the memory and the love of my Aunt Cuckoo through this nutcracker as inspiration to spend more time with my family and to get out of my comfort zone in my basement to explore the world and what it has to offer. I carry it as my inspiration to do well in school and to get good grades so that I may get into a good college to make a living off of working a job that I love. I carry it as my inspiration to live my life to the fullest. If I’m going to be having the spirit of my lovely Aunt Cuckoo accompany me on my adventures through life, I may as well give her something exciting to watch.