You know that when you say something definitively that the Universe is going to smack you around. So, in my last blog when I said:
No one looks back on their life and thinks fondly of what they received for their 25th Christmas.
The Universe clearly had something to say to me, along the lines of, “We shall see about that!”
There are toxic gifts, and there are toxic gift-givers. We deal with them and move on. But there are also people who give from the heart, without reservation, and they know where we live. And their gifts reflect this understanding.
So, let me state now that on my death bed, I probably will remember my (early) Christmas gift, which I received in my 44th year, literally the day after I wrote the previous blog. It was my equivalent of Ralphie’s Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle. It was something I had wanted and missed for at least 20 years.
On the day I received it, my beloved requested my assistance to move an object in a rented U-Haul van that was a “gift for the family.” He wouldn’t say more. I rode with him in the pouring rain to the far side of town, where we found the house of a middle-aged couple who was moving further south. And there, in their packed-up living room, was a lovely spinnet piano. “There’s your piano,” he said.
A piano of my own! I had wanted one my entire adult life. I will never be a world-class pianist, but I love to play. Making music for myself is a calming, meditative thing. I like to challenge myself to play that piece a little better than I did before. I like to be with the melody and just make myself happy. And now, after two decades, I could do it again. I had received a long-lost piece of myself, which I had mourned and missed. It was a gift of pure love and pure understanding, one that said, “I see you.” It doesn’t get any better than that.
The children are naturally drawn to the piano; I hope they want lessons. I’m trying to encourage them in that direction. I can’t play for long without having a cat perched on top of the piano. They love it, too.
The best gifts don’t really have a price tag. How do you put a price on the joy of music? But I know I am loved when I received the perfect gift—the gift that gave me back my music. So, yes, I’ll remember this gift always, but more importantly, I’ll remember the love that inspired it. I couldn’t be more blessed.