The box came by courier. She opened the door and her eyes widened in curiosity at the parcel he carried. The delivery man proffered an electronic pad and she scrawled something almost entirely unlike her signature on it. He smiled and wished her a nice day.
The box was large, a couple of feet in all dimensions but was relatively light she checked the labels on the outside for a clue as to who had sent it. Uncertain still, she began to struggle to remove the parcel tape. She began peeling length after length but it had been thoroughly sealed and after a couple of minutes impatience got the better of her and she went into the kitchen to fetch the scissors. Systematically she worked round the box until she could open the top. She lifted the flaps. Continue reading “The Gift”
People give each other presents all the time. Sometimes those presents can be seen, held and even wrapped. Some presents, on the other hand, have little or no physical reality at all.
I was once given a poem. Actually over the years, I’ve been given several, some of them even written by the donor, but this one was extra special. I used to sit, curled up on the bed, listening to it being read for me by someone special. I’ve treasured it ever since. It’s actually a gift which later became tangible, when he gave me a book containing that same poem.
Similarly I have been given music. Sometimes in physical form on cassette, sometimes merely through a shared listening. Many of those songs are special to me still. Nobody’s ever written a song specifically for me yet, mind you. Feel free to try.
Rarely I am given a place, a location with some special significance, they too remain in my heart forever.
Don’t get me wrong, I love opening big, brightly wrapped boxes and finding out what’s inside. But the gifts which leave the biggest impression are those given from the heart.
And so, the poem in question still moves me, and I still think very fondly of the man who read it to me, so long ago. Let me share it with you all. Another intangible gift.
Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
by W. B. Yeats