I get a Kate Spade handbag, to be precise. I also get money to pad it it with, albeit briefly . Both gifts come come from my sister, who excels in giving. She also excels in mind reading. How else would she know that I think my old handbag is due for retirement? How else would she know that the check she sent me will go to much wanted craft related supplies–yarn, Piecework Magazine, Nicky Epstein books, yarn, yarn, yarn, I cannot decide just yet.
Getting gifts inspires me to make gifts–a cotton blanket for a little baby who lives in Jerusalem, a cotton pinafore for K’s granddaughter, a blue shawl for an Ukrainian princess, caps for preemies and oncology patients. Passing on goodwill is a sensible tradition. It keeps us from being too grabby, too self-involved. I don’t mean this in a preachy way. Sharing is practical. It Time is a valuable commodity these days and sharing it with my best friend enriches me. It is good to rake a walk by the river, listening to the geese squabble. It is heart warming to see the first daffodils blooming in cottage gardens by the Potomac. In my own weed choked garden brave little iris cristatas dazzle me with their blue blossoms. We drink this in, my love and I, along a a cup of chai, an almond croissant and the certainty that at least for today, something is right with the world.

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