Treasure Box

Words of affirmation/encouragement are my love language. Or is it physical touch/affection? They vie for first place. It's always a toss up. I feel loved with feedback and affection. Especially written.

A girlfriend sent me a tin box. I brought it with me to set on the table by the window of my little cabin on the beach. It is a better decoration than flowers. The box is stuffed full of love. Notes from a thirty two year old friendship. Notes of appreciation, validation, memories, acknowledgment, hope, thankfulness and affirmation. All written on exquisite pieces of paper. Words framed by pleasing texture and color.

A gift for my 50th birthday. As I read each one, tears poured down my cheeks. Tears of happiness at being celebrated. It's the nicest thing. I greedily and hungrily opened them faster and faster, gulping down the goodness. My heart was thirsty for such a feast. A meaningful present for such a time as this. Someone knew my need and prompted her.

It would be too embarrassing to tell you how many times I have reread them. Let's just say I lost count.

The lid is filled with rocks found beach combing. Thoughtful words side by side with friendship words. 

She had tucked a $50.00 Barnes and Noble gift card inside. It was completely unnecessary. The notes are the prize.

She looked back, remembering ahead, to the person I might become.  This box is full of grace. It is  lovely to have all my failures, mistakes, prickly edges, stupid choices, warts, boogers and glaring faults forgotten. Unremembered. 

I've always wanted to be a mouse in the corner at my memorial service. Weird? Am I the only one who wonders if my life has made a difference? Am I alone in wondering if there would be any "It's a Wonderful Life" sort of replay. Did it matter?

It would be fun to hear all the nice and funny things people only say when you're gone. Hopefully, people would show up and oblige me. Fantasy eulogies. 

And yet ~ because of this box stuffed full with words of life ~ eavesdropping at my funeral doesn't sound as appealing. Groan, it is possible that only a handful of silent people would show up. Introverts don't really draw crowds.  :)

I think this is real enough to last till the end; and better now than later. I can re-read them and hold them in my hand. Pet them. Smell them. 

My favorite note? "Manic looks fabulous on you, as do the age spots you celebrate." [snort] [bahahahaha]  Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy" is thrashing around my head right now..........

Many thanks, my friend. It was just right, like the baby bear's porridge.  :)

Happy Birthday from you to me. Wish me not well, but to finish well.