A Lover’s Secret to Perfect Presents
Here are a few of my favorite gifts
Gift-giving tells a lot about a new romance.
For me and my husband, it revealed a thoughtfulness guided by practicality. Our first Christmas, we limited gifts to $5.
He gave me a miniature rocking chair meant for a child’s dollhouse. His card read: If you’re a good girl, this will grow into a real rocker someday. He had noted my fondness for a Bentwood rocking chair.
I presented him with five dollars worth of paints suitable for an artist’s airbrush. The more expensive compression kit and airbrush would come later. I saw the artist in him longing to produce subtly blended lines and to easily paint ship and airplane models.
Looking back over our 42 years, three gifts stand out.
A Cello
I love playing the cello. I fell in love at age 10 after bowing my very first note. It was melodic and mellow, not squeaky and sharp like chords played by a novice violinist.
I don’t just play the cello. I wear it. I feel its music to my very core. Vibrations pulse through me, from my chest to my thighs.
My whole being floods with excitement no matter the melody. My body absorbs the notes. We meld — the cello, music, and me. We are one.
It’s an experience I can only equate to making love.
Seems only appropriate, that my husband bought me my first cello. Prior to the gift, I learned, practiced and played my school’s instruments.
A surprise birthday gift deserving of its own story.
As a couple, we were not bound to material things. Our gifts tended toward experiences, a biplane ride, scuba diving lessons. The exception — my cello. I looked at my husband and said,
“You never have to buy me another gift ever again.”
But he did.
A Rose Bush
My father-in-law was buried on my birthday.
I gasped when given the date over the phone, but said nothing. The US Army selects the funeral date for those who qualify for burial at Arlington National Cemetery. It just happened to be my birthday.
My father-in-law was a U.S. Army officer for over three decades. He enlisted (under age) for World War I and served in the trenches. He was an officer in WWII, Korea. So, he earned this honorable, last resting place. And I accepted the coincidental collision — funeral vs. birthday — as a final birthday gift from a man I loved dearly.
A year later, my husband and I were still grieving and taking care of his mom, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I wanted no birthday celebration. My choice was to spend the day quietly, gardening, and reflecting on life.
My husband understood.
So, he walked through the door on that birthday carrying a rose bush. Cut flowers die. My husband gave me living roses, a bush that showered me with buds and blooms for decades.
A Rack of Ribs
That birthday, my husband also carried a plate of barbecue ribs, my favorite meal, from my favorite carryout spot.
They smoked and sauced the ribs at a storefront that resembled more of a pool hall than a restaurant. It was a bit dodgy, especially at night. Yet they had the best ribs and collard greens.
My husband liked their ribs too but didn’t like me going there alone. So a meal of those ribs was always a special occasion.
Tears still fall when I remember my father-in-law’s funeral every birthday. I miss him, but I also celebrate his influence in my life.
My favorite rib place is gone. So is my husband after 42 years together. Yet the roses still bloom.
And a loving life together is the best, enduring present of all. Well, that and my cello.
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