Thursday, December 20, 2007

Christmas Cornucopia


There is something sweet about coming home and finding gifts laid at your doorstep - the realization that someone, somewhere, has taken the time to think about you and act on it.

I certainly wasn't expecting the windfall I got. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning, excitedly cutting through the outside packing tape of each box and package, wondering just what could be inside.

My largesse consisted of: a beautiful white snowflake sweater which matched the snowflakes falling outside my window, perfect timing from one of my oldest and dearest. Then there were a Monet calendar and Chico's gift card from a grade-school friend. We have known each other since we were Sophie's age. In fact, we are planning a 50th reunion of our eighth-grade class for next June! How's that for staying in touch? Polish bosom buddies.

For a moment, I am still and see both these dear, golden friends in my mind's eye. I see my snowflake-sweater friend falling asleep in the back seat of a '57 Chevy on the night of our senior prom; I see the Chico-classy lady of my childhood years dancing on the sidewalk in front of my house for my 13th birthday party. The wistful images vanish as quickly as they come, as ephemeral as snowflakes.

There are more surprises from new friends made online; we have yet to meet in person but have shared much about ourselves via email and fan forums. I get a lovely thank-you note for past kindnesses along with Christmas music and chocolate kisses in a little Penguin box from a gal in Tennessee. The penguin motif is an inside joke and relates to our common belief that a certain TV couple should be "shipped", matched romantically. I open two boxes of chocolate-covered shortbread from another cyber-friend in Hawaii who proof reads my science-fiction writing. Will I ever meet these women? Will our silver friendships last long enough to become gold?

I don't have answers for the meaning of why some people come into my life and stay, while others drift in and out like the blowing snow. As the poet Rilke advises, I am content to live the questions.

Today, I came home and found gifts at my door.

I am blessed indeed.

1 comment:

Terry said...

Beautiful. I have a feeling you are the kind of friend that others cherish--the kind of friend that stays.