Afterwards the house was quiet. The noise dissipated and there was the soothing sound of being inside while it sleeted outside, the tiny drops of ice seeming to sizzle on the tin patio roof.
The discarded wrapping paper strewn about, varying degrees of gifts stacked and sorted, and there was a peaceful chaos to the landscape...
Gift-giving or gift-receiving is a curious mystery...please guess what I am presenting to you...please know that I thought about this before buying...at times gifts become rote, and you get exactly what the person asked for...others are darling mysteries, trying to surprise the intended.
Protected by the thinnest of paper and perhaps the tightest row of ribbon, these gifts become revealings in an instant. You know rather quickly if you appreciate...like...or love.
She was one of those darling mysteries.
He never knew what the outcome would be...her clothed in a warm winter coat, or in just the flimsiest of shirts...a red sweater or nothing at all. He was always guessing...wondering what thoughts she was presenting...what accommodations to him...seeing her was always a delight...and from there? Who knew...where would it lead? What might happen next?
These were the greatest reveals that filled him and made each arrival come with such anticipation.
And only in her departures did he realize the despair of watching a gift break apart in his hands.
It was like that every time...afterwards.
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