Giving from the heart...

One year at Christmas, when I was about four years old, I told my mom that I wanted to give each person in my family something special for Christmas. She said that was a good idea. I pointed out to her that I was only four and had no income which was going to make gift giving difficult for me. My mom told me, and this is a lesson that I hold dear today, that only those gifts that come from our heart mean anything and those types of gifts didn't have to cost much or anything at all. In fact, she said, sometimes giving someone something that is special to you, because it makes you happy, make the gift meaningful.

So I spent a good week or so looking around and thinking about what I really loved and what of what I loved would my siblings love too. There were my toys, of course, but I couldn't see any of my older siblings getting a kick out of getting my old toys wrapped up under the tree. Besides, I liked my toys and I wasn't sure I was all that ready to part with them. There were my books too but the same rules applied. And, as the baby in a family of six, most of my books had been their books at one time or another already. Gifting them back seemed redundant.

Then one night it came to me. One thing we always did when we were all together was have dinner at the dinner table together. My mom would cook up a big meal and we'd sit and eat and talk and laugh in the warmth of the kitchen. It was  special time and the most special thing, in my humble four year old opinion, that my mother cooked for us was her home made mashed potatoes. Now, being Irish, I am a potato freak! Love them! Boiled, fried, baked, mashed, chips, hash browned - it doesn't matter - I love them. And so it came to pass that on Christmas Eve, when I was just four, my sisters and brother and Dad all unwrapped a big beautiful potato. They all thought it was funny but I thought it was the perfect gift. I was giving people I loved something I loved, just like mom said I should do.

Mom chuckled too. Until she opened her present from me. It was a spatula. Dad helped me pick it out. Apparently while I enjoyed identifying my mom as a world class cook she would have rather had some bubble bath or nice perfume. Go figure!