The year I turned 16, I spent the weeks before Christmas dropping

Host: The café was quiet, the sound of rain outside barely audible against the soft hum of conversations inside. The gentle lighting cast a warm glow, making the space feel even more intimate. Jack and Jeeny sat at a small table, the warmth of their drinks matching the comfort of the room around them. Jack was absently swirling his coffee, lost in thought, while Jeeny, her gaze focused on the window, finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Jeeny: “I read something today by Karen Robards: ‘The year I turned 16, I spent the weeks before Christmas dropping hints to my parents about how much I wanted—no, needed—my own transportation.’ It made me think about how we all want something for the holidays, but we’re often so focused on what we want that we forget what really matters. What do you think?”

Jack: He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the side of his cup. “I get that. I remember the feeling—when you’re younger, and you have your heart set on something you just have to have. The idea of a car, especially at 16, feels like this huge symbol of freedom. But then, when you really think about it, it’s not just the thing you want, but what it represents, right? It’s the independence.”

Host: The gentle sound of the rain outside softened as Jeeny’s voice, calm but thoughtful, filled the space between them.

Jeeny: “Exactly. It’s not just about the car, it’s about what it promises—freedom, the ability to go wherever you want, the control over your own life. And at 16, that’s a huge deal. But sometimes, we get so caught up in wanting the material thing, we forget the bigger picture—what it represents and whether it’s really what we need, or just something we think will fill a void.”

Jack: “Yeah, I guess at that age, you don’t think about the responsibility that comes with it. You’re just focused on the excitement of getting the car, thinking that once you have it, everything will feel different—better, even. But it’s not just about the car, it’s about the sense of self that it gives you.”

Host: The conversation seemed to deepen, the quiet rhythm of the rain against the window almost like a natural soundtrack to the unfolding reflection. Jeeny’s expression remained steady as she continued.

Jeeny: “Exactly. But when you get what you want, you realize it’s never just about the thing—it’s about how it changes your perspective, how it shifts your sense of agency. A car isn’t just a vehicle; it’s a tool for independence, for taking control of your own path. But it’s also a reminder of how easily we can get caught up in the idea of something without truly understanding the full picture—the responsibilities and realities behind it.”

Jack: “And when it doesn’t solve everything, you’re left with the realization that maybe it wasn’t the car, or the material thing, that was the answer—it was just the desire for something more, something different.”

Jeeny: “Yes. Sometimes, we think that what we want will make everything feel better, but it’s the process of wanting something that often teaches us more than getting it does. It’s not about the thing—it’s about what it teaches us about ourselves, about what we really need versus what we think we want.”

Host: The café felt quieter now, the sounds of the world outside softened, as if the conversation had slowed time just enough for Jack and Jeeny to recognize the depth of their exchange. They both understood now that wanting something, especially during the holidays, was not just about the material possession—it was about the deeper desire for change, for growth, for a sense of control. The car wasn’t just a gift—it was a symbol of something bigger, something about navigating life’s roads, both literal and metaphorical.