The Gift

I received a gift once. An unintentional gift. Given by someone who didn't love me. It's the best gift anyone could ever receive and I will treasure it for the rest of my life. It's the gift of self-love. Left at the doorsteps of my broken heart. It sat there for quite a while. Unopened. Not because it wasn’t wrapped up in shiny gift wrap and came without a card. It didn't require a card. Since it was addressed to me in all its unassuming presence, no one but me could open it.

No. It sat there so long because I wasn’t ready to receive it . Initially ignoring it, as I was passing it by every day on my way out to rebuild the remains of my shattered heart. Not realizing that what sat there right in front of me was mine to have and to keep. As each day passed and none of my usual “pull yourself up by your boot strings” techniques were working, I began to pay attention to it. This tiny box wrapped in brown paper, already smudged and indented at the sides, since I kept kicking it out of the way all this time. Once I started paying attention to it, curiosity took over. I finally picked it up, this battered parcel of mine, and brought it inside. Out of the cold and away from the torrent elements that kept trying to break it down. I didn’t immediately shred it open and went hooray with excitement.

Again, it just sat there for some time. But now it would greet me, staring me in my face, every time I returned back home ( to myself). At last I gently picked the brown paper wrap off of it. Bits and pieces at a time. With every piece of worn old paper taken off, more and more of its beauty became exposed. It took effort and attention and patience to remove all the tiny remnants of sticky covering. I eventually managed to unwrap it completely. It has become the centerpiece of my existence. Everything starts and stops with it. Nothing gets passed it. It asks me this question every day: “Is this serving your higher good?” And if the answer is no, I won’t do it (anymore).