I love buying gifts for other people. Love it. When I was first working and could buy gifts with my own money, I’d routinely give the gift before the designated event. My parents would roll their eyes and open their Christmas gifts in November.
When my daughters were old enough to recognize what gifts were they were my favorite people to shop for. It was double the fun for me – not only did I get to pick out the gift, but I got to experience it with them.
As they got older (read: picky) gift giving was a new mission. What can I buy for them they won’t automatically dislike because mom gifts are lame? I made a fair amount of good choices. Also some duds.
Z has always been the easier daughter to shop for. Books. Book themed accessories. Outdoors. Nerd stuff. I liked getting her these items because she was just like me. All of the things I liked, I could buy for her.
Now I’m just window shopping.
A million words in the books on her list. A million blades of grass under the new hiking boots. A million rays of sun for the new sunglasses.
I don’t add anything to my cart. I’m window shopping.
I want her to be here for these things. I want to see the joy on her face. I want to make her book collection grow. I want to bask in her shine and her new sunglasses. I want so badly to give her my love. I want to give her everything I am. I yearn to buy these things and feel the relief in her presents.
Z would have loved that. Z would have loved that. Z would have loved that.
Not presents. Presence. Presence.
I will have nothing for her under the tree. There will be no brown packages with her name. I look at everything for her through the windows and I move on without.
0 stars. Would not recommend.