Gifts

When I was 6, a boy threw a pencil at me. Probly 'cause I threw one at him first.


When I was 13, a boy got down on one knee and sang to me.


When I was 14, a boy sang "Baby Blue" in a school concert, for me. He found out later my eyes are more green than blue.


When I was 15, a boy peed my name in the snow.


When I was 16, a boy bought me flowers.


When I was 17, a man rubbed my feet.


When I was 21, a man stared at me like he was viewing for the first time something other, and worthy of contemplation. Woman.

When I was 23, a man wrapped music in a crossword puzzle and left it in my car.

When I was 24, a man bought me peanutbuttery chocolates.

Last week, a man bought me a tank of gas.*

It's the small (and apparantly strange) gifts that get to me. Intentional. Just because. To start things off well. For the end. Any of those will work. It doesn't have to be perfect, cost money, or be exactly what I need. Because sometimes I don't even know exactly what I need.

*thanks Dad.