The Season of Giving

Presidio Heights has always been filled with luxury, but our focus today isn’t on the neighborhood; it’s on one resident in particular: Jo Jessy Marlowe. Jo has lived in the Heights his entire life, keeping safe in his riches. If something broke, it was replaced within an hour. Spoiled since birth, Jo never learned the meaning of gratitude, let alone generosity. His mansion, often referred to as the “Persian Palace” by locals, hiding a basement brimming with unopened gadgets, designer clothes, and other “junk” he refuses to part with. To Jo, the holiday season is less about giving and more about avoiding unwanted visitors knocking on his sparkling front door. Charities know Presidio Heights is a treasure trove of potential donations, but Jo sees their pleas as interruptions. Most years, he simply ignores the knocks and rings. This year, however, things were about to change.

 A sharp knock echoed through the mansion. Jo, sipping his morning coffee and scrolling through social media, ignored it. When the doorbell rang moments later, he groaned but stayed put. Then came the banging. Irritated, Jo opened the door, only to slam it shut immediately when he saw a clipboard-wielding charity worker. But the visitor wasn’t frightened. Another knock, followed by a longer doorbell chime, now this is what pushed Jo over the edge. He yanked the door open.  

“What?” Jo snapped. 

“Good afternoon, sir! My name is Sam, and I’m with the Circle of Hope,” the man began cheerfully. “We’re collecting donations to help families in need this holiday season.” 

“I don’t do donations. Bye.” Jo moved to shut the door, but Sam held out a hand. 

“We take more than just cash! Unused items, clothes, anything you don’t need could make a huge difference!” Sam said earnestly. 

Jo rolled his eyes. “I don’t have anything for you. Stop begging and get off my property before I call security.”

 Sam sighed, pulling out a business card. “If you change your mind—” Jo slapped the card out of Sam’s hand, sending it fluttering to the ground. “I won’t. Now Leave!” Sam, visibly shaken, muttered, “Thank you for your time,” and hurried down the driveway. Jo slammed the door and returned to his luxurious bubble, leaving charity—and compassion—firmly outside.

That night, Jo went through his bedtime routine—skincare, silk pajamas, and Netflix on his massive bedroom TV. As he drifted off, the soft ticking of a clock grew louder and louder. A chill swept through the room, waking him. Jo bolted upright to find a ghostly figure hovering at the foot of his bed.“I am the Ghost of Generosity,” the figure announced, dressed in casual streetwear. “You can call me Gennady or Gen for short.” “WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?” Jo screamed. Gen not shaken at all reassures Jo, “I am here to show you how to be generous with the stuff you have. For everyone does not have the same luxuries.” “That’s not my problem though, plus it’s my stuff,” Jo said aggressively. “How about this?” Gen said. “Just come with me and see.” Hesitantly Jo said, “fine but what are we going to see-.” Gen whisked Jo away to the Circle of Hope Shelter, where Jo saw families huddled together, children playing with broken toys, and one family sitting off to the side, their daughter clutching a teddy bear. Upon closer inspection of the little girl Jo saw that the teddy bear she was holding was tattered and almost falling apart. “This shelter runs on donations,” Gen explained. After Gen noticed Jo’s worried and concerned face. “But not enough people give, so supplies are limited.” Guilt flickered in Jo’s chest as he stared at the family. “If  I’d donated…” “Exactly,” Gen interrupted. “Now do you see why you are here” “No I don’t, Jo snapped.” Why should it matter to me if they don’t have enough donations.” Gen looking disappointedly says, “Clearly you still have a lot to learn.”

As soon as Gen left, Jo found himself in a sunlit park. The air smelled of fresh grass, and laughter rang out from every corner. Beside him stood a radiant ghost with a glowing aura, dressed in yoga pants and a cozy sweater. “I’m the Ghost of Happiness,” she said, joyfully. “Call me Sunny. Let’s talk about what real joy looks like.” Jo still squinting his eyes from the pure light that shone off of her followed behind her. Sunny took Jo to a playground filled with children laughing and playing. Nearby, adults chatted over coffee, while volunteers handed out sandwiches and toys. Jo noticed something strange. “They look happy… but they don’t have much. How are they happy with very little,” Jo said confused. “That is the point exactly,” Sunny said. “Happiness doesn’t come from what you own; it comes from connection, kindness, and community.” Sunny gestured to a young boy sharing his toy truck with a few of the other children that were there. The children’s laughter made Jo smile a bit. “You see that,” Sunny said softly. “Yeah they all look so happy even though it is just one toy,” Jo said. “It’s not about the quantity. It’s about sharing what you have,” Sunny said. The light around Sunny dimmed as she pointed at a little kid sitting at the picnic tables in the park. “Look over there,” Sunny said. Jo looks over at the child and notices how sad he is. “What’s wrong with him?” Jo says puzzled. “That’s what happens when someone like you doesn’t give”, Sunny said harshly. “That little boy didn’t get a toy because people like you like to hoard their belongings,” Sunny snapped. “Instead of sharing. Giving back is not about feeling guilty Jo, It is about understanding. Happiness spreads when generosity flows.” “I guess I understand a little,” Jo said. “But at the same time it’s still my stuff. I bought it, meaning I get to keep it.” “If that is what you think then clearly you have not yet learned a thing,” Sunny said harshly. “Clearly you need to see just how bad it can get when you stay in your selfish ways.” 

“Finally home,” Jo said. As he looked around though he didn’t recognize his mansion. It was still the same place, but the walls looked run down, and the lights didn’t sparkle the same as the usually do. As he entered his home noticed that there was items upon items piled up on and around his floors. Looking at the door that lead to his basement he noticed that items were blocking the entrance. Looking around more he noticed the dusty furniture and cracked windows. The once grand decor now had a dark and foreboding complexion. As he made his way into the living rook Jo noticed a tall intimidating figure cloaked in black. The figured stood in the middle of the living room amongst all the junk on the floor. The figure’s hollow eyes seemed to pierce Jo’s soul as it stared back at Jo. Jo shakingly asked the figure, “W….wh…Who ar…..e….y…..ou?” The figure’s booming voice responded, “I am the Ghost of Selfishness.” Jo could feel goosebumps forming along the back of his neck. The figures voice echoed the halls of the run down mansion, and felt like a chilling wind. “You can call me what you already know well,” The figure said. Jo still scared asks, ‘What is that suppose to mean.” Jo took a couple of steps back and tried to make his way to the door, but every time he took a step the figure moved closer and closer to him. Finally the ghost stopped moving and waved his hand. Jo flinched as he thought he was about to get hit, but upon the wave the room around him changed. The room now desolate. Jo now alone was in the  middle of a cold dark room. It was nothing but empty space surrounded by piles of his belongings. Designer clothes, gadgets, and countless luxury items  layed around Jo. “What’s this” Jo asked. “Your Future,” the figure said. “My fu….tu..re?” Jo said confused. The figure stepped closer and now Jo could make out that it was another ghost. “Yes your future,” the ghost said. “ A life filled with possessions but devoid of meaning. Look closer.” Jo moved toward the piles and noticed they were covered in dust and cobwebs. The things he once treasured were forgotten, unused, and meaningless. He turned back to the ghost, whose hollow eyes seemed to bore into him.“Why are you showing me this?” “Because this is what happens when selfishness rules your life,” the ghost replied. “Your possessions become your prison. You have no connections, no joy, no purpose. Do you want this?” Jo shook his head furiously. “No, of course not!” The ghost snapped their fingers, and Jo suddenly found himself at his own funeral. The room was eerily silent. Only a handful of people sat in the pews, most of them looking bored or checking their phones. “Is this…is this my funeral?” Jo asked, his voice shaking. “Yes,” the ghost said. “The legacy of a man who gave nothing and was remembered for nothing. Your wealth could have changed lives, but instead, it  withered away with you.” Jo fell to his knees, trembling. “Please, stop this. I don’t want to end up like this. I’ll change—I promise!” The ghost’s hollow eyes bore into him one last time before the room dissolved into darkness.

 Jo woke with a start, his silk sheets clinging to his sweat-soaked body. Morning light streamed through the window, and for a moment, he thought it had all been a dream. Then his gaze fell on the crumpled business card on his nightstand: Circle of Hope Shelter. Jo didn’t hesitate. He threw on a sweater, grabbed his keys, and drove downtown to the shelter. When he arrived, the scene was bustling. Volunteers were sorting donations, families stood in line for food and gifts, and the air buzzed with hope and gratitude. Jo’s eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted the little girl from his vision, clutching her tattered teddy bear while her parents helped organize donations. He approached a staff member and asked, “who’s that family over there?” “The Lawrences,” the staff member replied. “They’ve been here a few months. Why do you ask?” “No reason,” Jo said. He pulled out his phone and wrote a check for $80,000. Then, with a deep breath, he approached the family. “Excuse me,” Jo said, handing the check to Mr. Lawrence. “This is for you.” Mr. Lawrence’s eyes widened as he read the amount. “Eighty… thousand dollars? Sir, I don’t understand.” “It’s just something I want to do,” Jo said with a smile. “Your family was the first I noticed, and I felt it was the right thing to help.” Tears welled up in Mr. Lawrence’s eyes. “This will change our lives. Thank you—thank you so much.” Jo nodded and then turned back to the staff member. “What else do you need here?” “Well, we’re always short on volunteers, supplies, and… funding,” the staff member said hesitantly. Jo smiled. “Consider that problem solved.”