I love looking at a person when they open a present.
The shooting up of the eyebrows, the widening of the eyes and the gleeful smile that our lips naturally spread into when it comes to free stuff.
Yes, of course, the sentiments count too. Pfft, obviously.
But honestly, apart from my sad attempts at humor, I can be the most sappy, emotional mush when it comes to gifts.
If you gift me a book that I’ve been saying I want to read, you shall have a part, if not all, of my eternal affection. I’m not even kidding.
And handmade gifts and the people who make them are my weakness.
I’ll save even the random things someone makes me. For instance,during a class in eleventh grade one of my best friends, out of boredom, made me a bookmark out of a folded strip of blue scrap paper. She doodled some patterns on one side and wrote “A Silver Afternoon” on the other.
I still have that bookmark.
The reason I’m rambling on like this is that just a little while ago a friend of mine messaged me about how he’d found me a very nice present for my birthday, which is still more than a month away.
When I asked him what it was, he told me it was a small, rechargeable clip on light I could use for reading in places where light is erratic (like in the car when there isn’t any daylight and I’ve received countless scoldings from my mother in the front seat for doing precisely that). And he was worried the gift seemed too practical.
I mentally wiped a tear when I read that.
This is a wholesomely random post and if you’re rolling your eyes right now I wouldn’t be surprised at all.
It’s just that thoughts and gestures like these make me smile like a total goof.
Until We Meet Again.