Day 14: Mail; The Love Language of Gifts

Reciprocity (started in a parking lot 7/31/15)

This is how I knew I couldn't show up empty handed
She never would have
Every occasion in my life has been 
Marked by mail from my Aunt

The major holidays birthdays graduations and anniversaries
These were expected but  
My mailbox was stuffed after
Promotions, summer camp, races, illnesses 
(and my personal favorite)
The Surprise of "just because"

Fuzzy socks
Tea Towels
Make up bags and samples
Flowers, the florist was her best friend
Cards, she kept Hallmark in business
See's Candy hollow milk chocolate turkeys

No matter how far away I moved
No matter how old I grew
The block print 
All caps
Sticker decorated envelopes
Hand wrapped packages 
Found me

There was no mistaking 
Her "Love Language"
Gifts
Oh how she loved us!


She would never show up empty handed 
I found myself shopping for nightgowns (hospital gowns are an indignity). 
For three indecisive hours 
Searching the same racks 
Pondering the pros and cons 
Two piece vs dresses 
Short sleeve vs sleeveless 
Paralyzed to choose
Sick with the realization
I might not shop for her again. 

I knew there must be gift wrap
Individually wrapped items 
And copious amounts of tissue paper
Possibly confetti too.
(Do hospitals have rules about confetti?)

Narrowing it down to two
Buying them both and a card
"Look a cute puppy will make you forget the tube in your nose" 
For a second maybe, and a second or two of relief
That's better than nothing.

Another half hour spent looking at inspirational jewelry
(she had more of this than I could have possibly imagined)
But there was nothing I could buy
There was nothing I could say 
There was nothing I could find
It didn't matter what I bought
The gift itself a tangible act of love
Love: 
The only consolation for a terminal diagnosis.