Gifts...

When I was a child, around the age of six or seven, I developed a deep fear of not being able to adequately express my gratitude for things, gifts, specifically. It made it very difficult for me to enjoy birthdays, and I think it’s part of why I loved Christmas so much more. For birthdays, I was the center of attention, everyone brought a small present, so I had to open things and struggle to express my gratitude. For Christmas, because we were so poor, I usually had one, maybe two, presents, and a lot fewer spectators, so there was more room for me to show people how thankful I was for their having considered me. 

As an adult, I’ve worked at that trauma, at understanding it, and moving through it. I still struggle, though. The funny thing is, I am truly grateful, for anything someone gives me, because it’s never about the thing I’m given, but about the thought and care of the giving itself. I was once told by a former partner that I’d ruined her for other partners because no matter what she gave me, from a fancy, expensive piece of art, to a silly little toy, I was always so genuinely excited to receive it, something she found later was not the case for most people. So maybe that’s something I got from all of it. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. A small gift is wonderful, but a shared experience is even more so. For me, it’s all about the same thing, the care someone is expressing for me in that thoughtfulness.

I will give you gifts. I will create experiences. But, at its heart, I will give you time and memories. That will always be my best gift to you, my most precious. And that’s the most precious thing you will ever give me. I love you, my sweet girl, and I will be right here, now and always.