Billy could not believe his seven-year-old eyes.

Here he was, Christmas morning, having just opened the biggest present under the tree.

The gift that he stared at longingly for the days prior to Christmas, as if this simple action would convince his mother to let him open it early.

The gift that he would shake to see if it made any noise that would serve as a dead-giveaway to what it was.

The gift that he almost did slightly open, when he had tried to cut a tiny edge of wrapping paper off so he could peek inside. If only he knew that his mother had been right behind him.

This was the gift that fueled his excitement for Christmas. It was the gift. The gift that he would spend all Christmas day playing with. It could have easily been something cool, something that seven-year old boys like. A skateboard, perhaps. Or a video game console.

Who could imagine Billy's disappointment when he discovered that it wasn't any of those things? Instead, Billy was holding a book. Yes, a book. And it was safe to say that Billy could never really be described as a bookworm.

"What do you think Billy?" He heard his mother whisper from her place on the couch, glancing at him whilst narrowing her eyes.

Billy looked at her, showing her with his eyes that he was not happy, and if this was some funny prank, he most certainly was not amused.

"I think that you might have given me Clara's gift by accident." Billy murmured, pointing to his little sister, Clara, from a few feet away, amusing herself with the gift that she had just opened, a beautiful princess doll.

Billy knew that she couldn't read. She was only three years old. And his mother saw right through her son.

"Billy." She said sternly. "What do you think of the gift that your grandfather got you?"

"Yeah, Bill, what do you think?" His grandfather smiled from the chair adjacent to the couch.

Billy stifled an angry sigh. He didn't really like his grandfather's annoying habit of calling him "Bill". He was Billy and that was it. But he knew that if he had said anything of protest, his mother would give him an earful, and he might go home with zero gifts that Christmas day.

"Um...this book is really great Grandpa, thanks for getting it for me..." Billy murmured.

"I thought you would like it! Most kids these days don't read. I'm glad that you're not one of em'. You'll really like this book because it's a special one..."

Billy's grandfather then went into a long speech that he couldn't help but tune out. While the speech was ongoing, Billy scanned the front cover of the book to see if maybe, just maybe, it looked interesting. But it didn't. It was just a red book with a castle on the front, nothing else. Not even a title or an author's name. The book was just about as dressed up as the basement of his home.

Billy was thankful when his grandfather finally stopped talking, and his mother picked up another present for him to open.

"Alright, Billy. This one's from me and Clara."

Billy slyly set the book aside and hurried over to the new present, eagerly opening it, and was very grateful to find out that it was a skateboard. And before he knew it, he had forgotten all about the book in his excitement.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't be for long. Because when Christmas was over that day, and Billy gave his grandfather a hug goodbye, he went home with Clara and his mother, and she made sure to let Billy know just how wrongly he behaved in front of his grandfather.

"Billy, I understand that you may not like every gift you open, but you have to be polite no matter what. Especially in front of your grandpa. Do you understand?"

Billy nodded sheepishly from the backseat.

"He's not going to be around forever, you know. He's the only grandpa you've got."

"I know."

"And it's not often you get to see him. And you know that he's always happy when he does get to visit."

"I know."

"Okay. So next year, when Christmas comes again, you promise me that you're going to be polite?"

"I promise."

But there was no next year. Not for Billy's grandpa, at least. When summer had come around, Billy had heard his mother on the phone in the hallway outside of his bedroom one evening. She sounded as if she were on the verge of tears, and Billy could barely make out any bits of her conversation because she had been whispering. He had been slightly worried, but was too nervous to leave his room and ask his mother what was wrong. And somewhere along those moments of time, he fell into sleep.

In the following morning, Billy found out that his grandpa has passed away of a heart attack. He knew how sad his mother was about it. That was her father, after all. But Billy didn't know what to feel. He didn't cry, and he didn't mope. He felt like he should have done those things, but they never did come to him. Billy had only seen his grandfather three times in his life.

"I'm glad that you got to hug him one last time." Billy's mother had told him with a bittersweet smile, with eyes resembling a sorrow unfamiliar to him.

"I remember that you hugged him goodbye during his last visit. I'm glad you did. He loved you, Billy."

"I know." Billy answered, and then, after seeing how sad his mother looked, added, "I loved him back."

"Oh, Billy." His mother whispered with new tears pooling in her eyes, making them sparkle with a bittersweet light, and then pulled him into a hug.

Not long after, Billy walked into his room to get his skateboard so that he could spend some time out of the house, and away from his mother's infectious sorrow. While searching through the pigsty of scattered clothes, toys, and occasional candy wrappers that coated the floor, he found a framed picture of him and his grandfather on his nightstand. He didn't remember it being there before, and he knew that his mother had surely put it there.

He found himself walking closer to it, and looking at it deeply, eyes boring into his own and his grandfather's from in front of the framed picture. They were both smiling, and Billy was sitting on his grandfather's lap, looking to be about two years old.

Billy didn't know why, but a strange, new feeling began to seep into him. A feeling he never knew and couldn't even name at the time. It was similar to sadness, if he had to name it, but even then it wasn't just that. But for some reason, Billy began to wonder if being called "Bill" was really such a big deal. He pondered over whether or not his grandfather's speeches were actually boring. And it was then, for the first time, that Billy looked into his grandfather's motionless eyes, and whispered, "I love you, Grandpa."

He was glad that he had hugged him one last time. And it was then, that he felt a sense of closure, and peace. He picked up his skateboard, and gave once last glance at the picture, before heading outside. One last glance, at the picture that would remain.