I cannot stop thinking about what must be the most indescribably beautiful gesture. The clues to that are scattered across my desk- a letter, some chocolates, a card...can you guess what it is?
My partner, Dan, and I were together for a bit over a year and a half, but even if it wasn't the longest relationship I've had, it was the healthiest and happiest one. We recently split up, we're friends, moving on and figuring life out one step at a time. While we were together, he often made the joke (and it's no joke at all!) that I am with him because of his family. They are the kindest, warmest people, genuine and loving, they will always welcome you into their home, ask you if you'd like tea. Throughout my relationship with D, we had the time to become really close (going beyond the polite "Hello" and weather chit-chat), they were always very attentive to me and my family, presents flew across Europe from one family to the other.
The break up didn't change that. I still call them, regardless of the communication Dan and I keep. We spoke for Mother's day too, I sent them a few little gifts. I called on Easter, and his aunt Marian asked if I had received her letter yet. No, but I was looking forward to it, now that I knew it was in the mail. Today, I eagerly ran to the mailbox, hoping it would finally be here. My heart started racing when I saw the hand-written address on a brown envelope. As I type this, I re-live it, and my fingers type faster. I got upstairs, hastily yet carefully opening it, and my racing heart suddenly skipped a beat. My eyes began to fill, as I took out the contents: it was a hand-written letter, an Easter card, a beautiful book mark, two bags of chocolate eggs and a slightly crushed Easter bunny figure.
This is one of the most intense emotions I have felt, yet it is so clean, simple and honest, it had me silent and tearing with appreciation. I know the family so well, I could literally imagine Marian (Dan's aunt with whom he lives) writing down her shopping list, driving to Morrison's, and picking up those extra packs of chocolate eggs; then sitting down in their living room and writing the letter; I see her hands neatly putting it all into the envelope and sending it off. She took time off her busy day and included me into their family, even when I am no longer part of it. The only reason why I am writing this instead of being on the phone and thanking her is because I am waiting for her to come home from work.
Seeing this close family who take care of each other, who gather every week on Sunday for dinner, who show their appreciation of each other all the time, this has taught me what my grandma has been trying to get me to do- to pay attention to the little details, to send cards, to honour small occasions. It is a privilege to be considered as one of them, when there is no obligation to. Don't get me wrong, I love my own family very much, but we don't do "gestures"- I consider it a gesture when my mom lets me have the car (we share a car, when we're both home at the same time). The family you are born with gives you many things, but then there is the family you choose, and I may not have married Dan, but his family is my second family, and they have shown me what I want one day, when I create my own family. I want to send cards, I want to have the family over at least once a week (even if that means a lot of dishes... no worries, I'll be rich and I'll have a dishwasher), I want a warm home.
OK, I think they may have come back home from work now, I am off to thank Marian for the most amazing letter I have ever received.
