The Gift that Led us to the Present

Wherein Our Heroine Returns to the Sentimental Christmas Vein.

Is a gift meant to be remembered as a gift, or do the best gifts sink into our everyday lives with nary a ripple?

I do not have an answer for that question, myself. I suppose it depends on the gift, the giver, and the circumstances. Our house is full of the testaments of affection from friends and family. Some are practical enough that they end up just being there. Some are instantly memorable as gifts for highly specific (and often emotional) reasons. And some fall somewhere in between.

One of my favorite Christmas gifts nearly made me cry when I received it. A little back story is necessary. Our Hero and I first met and dated about ten years ago. After about a year, we reached what pilots call a "go/no-go point" - the final moment before takeoff where you either fly or abort and taxi back to the terminal to fix something. Ten years ago, we unhappily but necessarily taxied away from one another. But during our time together we had learned certain things about each other: shared interests, common priorities, and a silly little thing: a fondness for a restaurant in Burlington, Vermont that served its house wine in painted Tuscan pitchers shaped like roosters.

Skip ahead about six years after our return to the terminal. After losing touch completely for nearly that entire time, I screwed up my courage and called his family to see if we could reconnect. Those shared interests and common priorities were probably still there, and the years might have eradicated the things that drove us apart. Those years might also have given him a wife, a house in the suburbs, and 2.3 children, but the chance was worth taking for me, and my gamble was rewarded. By Christmastime we were a definite item again, beginning to make plans that would eventually lead us to where we are today.

That Christmas afternoon he gave me a small, painted Tuscan pitcher, shaped like a rooster.

Posted: Wednesday - December 08, 2004 at 08:19 AM | |