It is Better to Give

** Fiction (kind of)

Late afternoon on an early spring day, with my mail in hand, I walked the short distance uphill from my mailbox to the walkway of my home. The last of the dirty winter snow had finally melted, exposing my bad. The leaves I had failed to rake before the winter snow set in had not biodegraded, and I would have to rake them up soon. This spring absence of snow also shed light on a card laying in one of the piles of leaves. It was weather worn, but clearly addressed to me. I must have dropped it several weeks prior, before it was buried under snow. 

It was from her. 

I have a friend, a work colleague actually, who is without question the kindest, most generous person in the world. Our paths cross on occasion when we are thrown together at work for random periods of time. Throughout the years of our acquaintance, she has presented me with countless gifts: jars of fruits that she grew and canned, freshly picked apples from her trees, and she once a gave me a full 5lb. sealed bag of protein powder because I mentioned that I was in the habit of drinking smoothies every morning. She said her son decided he didn’t like that particular powder, and it just happened to be the mix that I use. When I tried to pay her for it, she adamantly refused the cash because she said it would have been thrown out unused.I thanked her profusely, and grudgingly took it. 

Last May, a few days before Mother’s Day we had downtime at work, and as we walked past a very nice candy shop, she said she needed to purchase a box of chocolates. I stood next to her as she paid the clerk who gift wrapped the delectables. My friend, let’s call her “Mary”, then turned to me and said “Happy Mothers Day” giving me the box of chocolates. 

I love chocolate if not more than I love my children, then definitely as much, but her giving me this gift was when everything shifted. At the risk of sounding like a terrible human being I will admit that this act of kindness pissed me off. The apples off her tree were a wonderful thoughtful gift, but she didn’t actually shell out cash for them. The jars of wonderful healthy food I hoped she had an abundance of, so I accepted and thanked her profusely. The protein powder, as she said, was going to eventually expire and be wasted if I didn’t take it. This however was a blatant gift. I refused: “You have to give this to your mother, or your husbands mother, or keep it for yourself because YOU are a mother…it’s a very kind gesture, but I don’t feel comfortable accepting all this gift…blah blah blah.” I blathered on and on to deaf ears. We passed the box of chocolates back and forth for the rest of the day, and I ended up taking the candy home, where it promptly disappeared, purloined I suspect by one of my thankless spawn. 

I dropped a thank you card in the mail, but this candy ate away at my conscience for months. I am not a great chef, or a grower of fruit, or a canner of the same. What could I possibly do for her in retaliation? Finally September was upon me. On a shopping excursion to my local warehouse club, the store where you can only buy feminine hygiene products in bulk, and as such must strap maxi pads and tampons to the roof of your car in order to transport them home, I saw something that I could finally give “Mary”. 

The new C—o 16oz travel tumblers were in. They only sell them at this store in Autumn, and I treat myself to a new one every year. Mine is an extension of my arm, permanently attached to my hand, like Thor Norse God of Thunder’s hammer. I always have it filled with coffee, or green tea. It is completely spill proof, so I click the lock on the lid, and can actually throw this travel tumbler in my purse never worried that it’s going to leak or open up on me. That coupled with the fact that it keeps drinks hot for hours makes this the travel tumbler of the Gods. In fact, if Dionysis the God of Wine, and Hermes the God of travel had given birth to a travel tumbler, this would be it. 

I remember having a conversation with “Mary” about my travel tumbler, and she seemed to covet it. This gift will be my revenge… a perfect gift for a chronic giver. Because I am selfish, I purchased two, one for me and one for my nemesis/friend. I wrapped it, bagged it, bought a card and spilled my guts:

Dear Mary,

Please accept this gift from me to you. I remember that you liked my cup, and when I saw that the new models were out, I wanted you to have one. This is a gift. Please accept it! Enjoy. Hope you are well. Talk to you soon. 

Lydia

I put the gift in her mailbox at work, and relief washed over me. Whew! I did it. Check that one off my conscience. Weeks went by, and I hadn’t heard from her…thankfully.

But what was the card that had been buried in the snow for all those weeks? I opened it. It was a thank you card. I could live with that. When I opened it however, a few things fell out: a gift card for a coffee shop, and several bags of specialty tea, all in return for the one small gift I gave her in October. That bitch Mary out did me again! 

Obviously her “love language” is giving gifts. That’s how she expresses her kind admiration. Unfortunately my “love language” is guilt, and this is an exhausting relationship for me…game on. _________________________________

The Daily Post, December 4, 2015, Daily Prompt: Everything Changes~ Walking down the street, you encounter a folded piece of paper on the sidewalk. You pick it up and read it and immediately, your life has changed. Describe this experience.<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/everything-changes/”>Everything Changes</a>