A Gift
I have a small cow in my front room. It sits beside my easy chair. I keep books on it. It was a gift from my daughter this Christmas. Actually, it’s an ottoman in the shape of cow, but I suppose anyone reading this would know that I wasn’t talking about a real cow. And to say it is in the shape of a cow is only true if the cow was about two foot two and square. But it is black and white, and you can see it has a head because of the horns. I suppose it’s more neolithic than realistic.
I have the cow because there are cows in the pasture beyond and she thought it would be fun when the kids come over to marvel at the cows on the other side of the fence to have something that looked like a cow in the house. And I agree. It’s cool, quirky, and thoughtful. All things I admire in a present because it shows thoughtfulness. Like the dish towel a friend gave me this year with a little phrase about lollygagging and dilly-dallying, all because I use those words sometimes when I write.
When you get down to it, that’s really the secret of presents, give something that shows you’re listening, paying attention, caring. Giving presents was something I really enjoyed during my marriage, and I always tried to have my late wife’s birthday and anniversary presents ready for her in the morning of the day in question so that she’d know I’d thought about it before hand, and she did the same for me. It was a good routine, and I miss it. But at least I had it and that’s something to carry me through a cold winter’s night.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale