A Gift For Those Who Don’t Want Anything
My father doesn’t really like tangible gifts. He pretends he’s excited when he opens them, but a lot of times I can tell that he doesn’t really feel like he needs them. He’s a three-pair of shoes guy. So, this is what I decided to give him for Christmas. I printed it out, folded it up, and put it in the tree:
You’ve been hinting lately that you need more sweaters, but I haven’t gotten you a sweater. I didn’t buy you a pair of pj pants or a little racecar or something shaped like an elephant. Not this year.
This year, I thought more about what you’ve given me.
They say that little girls grow up to marry guys like their daddies, and I sure as hell don’t know about that. Cut like a Buddha gravestone doesn’t really seem my type. I do know, though, that so much of what I know about being a punnit, a parent, a student, a teacher, a skeptic, and a wiseass, I’ve learned from you. I know you’re the inspiration behind my enormous poofy hair, my long-winded writing style, and my insatiable curiosity, and you’re probably also the reason that I love it when people sing to me. That’s an odd one.
You’ve given me a lot of things, Dad. Some of them have been tangible, and some of them have not. The most important things you’ve given me, though, have been your time and your love, and so, for Christmas, that’s what I’d like to give you.
Some day, before I leave, I plan to treat you to Burger King and Pizza Hut, a “bombing around” session, and a game of Ghost.
Our time may not be infinite, but my love certainly is.