Over the years, I've gotten a lot of great gifts, especially at Christmas. Pretty much, whatever I've asked for, I've gotten (except a car; my Dad drew the line there and stuck to it).
The first wonderful gift I remember was a doll house. It was three levels, and the door bell worked. It came with a little family; mom, dad, older brother, younger sister. I think there was even been a baby and a dog. The truth is, a lot of the details have faded. The one thing that has stuck with me was the feeling of utter joy when I found the house waiting for me on Christmas morning.
Even as an adult, I've been spoiled at Christmas. My Dad has given (read: paid for) several major projects for my house. Of course I appreciate the stuff; I wouldn't have most of it were it not for the gifts.
More than that, I appreciate the show of support. My Dad's gifts, no matter how small or big, make me smile because they show that through all the mistakes, the stuff I've messed up and the choices that he may not understand - he's still proud.
It makes me think back to all those years ago, when I found that doll house under the tree. Maybe the joy wasn't in the gift itself, but in the love behind it.
No comments:
Post a Comment