It's my birthday. I am now 26 years old. Yee-hah. I was expecting to be seriously bummed today. What oh what am I going to do with myself, time is passing me by, yadda yadda yadda. Mostly, though, I'm disappointed. I haven't gotten even one present yet.

That's not even really true. When I last saw Lynne a week ago, I happened to be bitching about how I owned no sandals. (The straps on my cheap ass Birkenmocks had begun to unglue from the soles in such a way that wearing them left two-inch long blisters on the sides of my feet, so I tossed them while moving.) Lynne suddenly became very businesslike. "I'll buy you sandals. It can be your birthday present." "Yeah, great. You can get me completely out of the way, so you don't have to think about it next week." "What?" "Nevermind." That had been a little rude of me. And besides, I did need sandals.

I guess it just seemed pretty impersonal. Ana says she needs sandals, so ok, we'll spend 10 minutes in WalMart's shoe department and she can pick out some sandals. Mission accomplished. Sisterly obligation fulfilled. The point I'm trying to make here is that birthday gifts are supposed to be fun stuff, stuff that I might not ever have thought to buy for myself. Besides, at this point in my life, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be paying for my own clothes.

It felt just plain odd, trailing my younger sister around WalMart. I had no money. She was buying me sandals. It was a little embarrassing.

I keep trying to remind myself that she thought she was doing me a favor (and she was. I did indeed need sandals.) It's the thought that counts, or something. But then I think about something my mom once said. She said the thought only counts if you really put some thought into it.

This is such a silly thing to be upset about. I'm being really petty, I know. But I think for her birthday, I'm going to buy Lynne a six-pack of socks.

***

D.'s first words today were "Happy Birthday." I loved him for it. He doesn't even have to get me anything else. He wants to go out to dinner tonight, but he works till 8:30. He's working at a place called JMS, which is somehow part of Smuckers, or was formerly known as Smuckers, or something. The end result is that he comes out soaked head to foot in fruit pulp. He absolutely has to change clothes, and would really really prefer to shower before doing anything. That puts it at like 10pm before we can go out to dinner. This isn't NowhereLand, so we do have options for food at 10:00. The trouble is, they're all fast food. I absolutely refuse to celebrate my birthday at McDonald's. I'd rather not do anything at all. We both have tomorrow off. Maybe we could go someplace nice tomorrow night.

I already know that if I tell him I want a present, he'll take me to the store and tell me to pick something out. It's like the Lynne thing all over again. I don't want to have to pick something out. I want to be pleasantly surprised. Is that really so much to ask? It sounds cliche, but I would totally love to have him come home with something he had seen and thought I might like, no matter what it was. It's the thought that counts.

***

When I was little, I loved one set of grandparents, and thought the other ones were kinda OK. One grandma bought me things, and the other one made cookies with me, and taught me how to play Yahtzee and Uno and cribbage. I was quite a shallow child.

It wasn't until much later that I realized the grandma with money didn't really even know me at all. She'd buy me anything I asked for, but she didn't even give a second thought to what I'd picked out after I went home. Every year, she still sends money for my birthday, and gives me a little envelope of money at Christmas. When I see her, I don't even know how to say three words to her.

I see a lot more of the other grandma. She likes jewelry, especially the stuff made by her late husband. She square-dances. She still spends her summers on the lake. She still loves puns and every single card game in the world. I'm always glad to see her.

***

See, whenever someone just gives me money, or takes me to the store to pick out a present, I find myself thinking about my Grandma. She bought me things too, and eventually, I realized that token gifts don't really mean anything.

previous--next