Among my possessions, I number one precious gift from my father. He had a bowl and pitcher set made for me and each of my three sisters. I have mine in my writing room, where I see it every time I enter and leave. I only remember him buying me two gifts. The other was a keychain he bought in Mexico, which fell apart long, long ago. Gift giving fell in Mother’s bailiwick. She did all the shopping, I never even knew of Daddy going into a store but once or twice, other than a country store if we stopped for gasoline and a soda.
The gifts I got from Daddy, were genetic gifts, natural confidence, often unwarranted, a sense of adventure, a sense of fun, as well as so many others. I am very grateful for these, and leaving it for others to tell about the ones I needn’t be so grateful for.