Sunday, May 18, 2014

The Best Present Ever

Dear John,
 
I was looking at family photos today and I found the ones I took of Bert right after you got him for me. I want to thank you again for giving me the best present ever. Don't tell my parents that it edges out my first bike.
 
You got it for my fifty-fifth birthday. We'd planned to go to Springfield and have Thanksgiving with your family that year, but I was in the middle of that awful case of mono and couldn't go. So I talked you into going anyway. You felt bad about me being alone for Thanksgiving and my birthday, so you gave me my birthday present early. And it was Bert. I slept with him while you were gone.
 
I remember that you'd ordered him and had him shipped to you at work instead of at home - you didn't want me to get a package from CBS because I'd know what it was. The day it arrived you opened it there at work. Everybody was gathered around to see what you were giving me for my birthday. A few of them were shocked and horrified, predicting that I would soon file for divorce after receiving a stuffed, farting hippo from my husband. It is certain that those were the people who had never watched NCIS. Everybody else understood that it was the best present ever.
 
And it was, and it still is. Bert lives in the place of honor on the bed. I don't sleep with him anymore, now that there's a German shepherd and two cats that have to fit somewhere. But he gets a hug and a kiss from me every morning and night. When I look at him I smile and remember that you knew me well enough to know just what I wanted, and cared enough to get it no matter how socially unacceptable it might be. Bert still makes me happy.
 
So thank you again for Bert. Thank you for knowing me so well, and for loving me anyway.
 
Love you, adore you, and worship the ground you walk on,
Joan.
 


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