When the song ends I curtsy to both the boys and return to my spot onthe couch where my book is waiting on the last page I read and my coffee is cold. But I don’t care.
After a while I decide to dress for the day, one of the other items from their mother is a quilt pattern maxi skirt that I pair with a long sleeve top also given to me. And, for once, I opt to go barefoot, blank toenails and all. I don’t think my feet are very pretty so I always hide them. But at this point, I don’t care. I should just be happy I’m alive.
I feel good today. I don’t know if it’s because of the holiday, but I’ll soak up that feeling as much as possible.
We cook. We listen to music. We eat more food than we can contain and share a couple bottles of wine. It’s a perfect leisurely holiday.
Then it’s present time. I wasn’t sure if the two even exchanged presents but I pulled a couple things together for them anyway. Obviously, I didn’t have the means to order last minute gifts on Amazon for Dylan and Jason, so I had to get crafty which is wildly outside of my comfort zone.
I don’t expect anything in return, I’m sure they prepare for Christmas while they can still get to and from town. But it feels wrong not to attempt gifts even if they will probably throw them away right after opening.
Dylan opens his present from Jason first, a vintage hat that looks like it time traveled straight from the 1940s. It looks like it was made for Dylan, suiting his features and style so well. Almost like he was missing the hat this whole time.
Jason opens his gift from Dylan next, a new pair of work boots. So practical. But also so on brand for Jason. Dylan explains that Jason only ever wants practical gifts for birthdays and holidays. He’s too frugal to spend money on himself and too selfless to ask for anything frivolous.
“Then you’re going to hate my gift to you,” I tell him. “It’s not practical at all.”
Out of deep curiosity, he takes the poorly wrapped present from under the tree addressed to him. Brows dropping to shield his eyes, he unwraps the box I found in their overflowing recycling bin since the trash service hasn’t been here in almost two months. I reconstructed it and put the hand drawn portrait of him atop a layer of crumpled tissue paper. I drew it frommemory, but it was the moment he shot the elk the day before Thanksgiving. I tried to capture the intensity and lethal focus in his gaze. My style isn’t very precise, but I like to think it holds emotion. At least, that’s what I try to depict in my drawings.
Eager to see if he received a similar gift, Dylan rips into his gift to find similar packaging of his portrait. I drew an image of him bent over a lieth working on a part for one of their orders. He’s so serious when he works, which doesn’t match the playfulness of his personality.
I make a mental note to draw us dancing around the living room this morning, something to commemorate the life he injects in this house. Without him, it would be a dull place to live. He’s definitely the heart of this place. He’s the Yin to his brother’s Yang. And I believe everyone needs that balance.
“Mara,” he gapes at the drawing, “these are incredible. I didn’t know you could draw.”
“Kind of,” I confess. “I’ve never had any formal training. I just do it to calm my mind. I normally draw on a tablet but it was nice to get back to my roots with good old paper and pencil.
“Sorry I don’t have anything more for you, considering all you’ve done for me. But since I didn’t know I’d be spending Christmas with you, I didn’t exactly pack gifts in my car when I went for my drive all those weeks ago.”
“These are more than enough,” he breathes.
I turn my hesitation and insecurity to Jason. “I know it’s not practical but do you like it?”
Without taking his hardened eyes off the drawing, he nods slowly. I don’t know what he sees in the drawing, but that’s the beauty of art, it looks different to every person. I hope he sees the strong, confident man determined to survive. When he shot that elk, I saw a killer. But after a lot of consideration, I saw so much more.
I’m not sure I want to watch all my meals die right before my eyes, but I’m starting to understand their way of life a bit more. I’m starting to see the beauty and purity of providing for yourself as opposed to constant reliance.
Dylan and Jason don’t strike me as doomsday preppers, but if the day evercomes that the world crashes down around us, they can still survive. They don’t rely on grocery stores to provide all their food. They don’t rely on a million different tradesmen to keep their home operating. Even though they pay for electricity, I fully believe they’d figure out how to generate electricity on their own.
There’s one present left under the tree with my name on it. I stare at it for a split second wondering if they wrapped up a random household item for me just so I’d have something to open this morning. They didn’t exactly plan for me either.
Taking it in my hands, the weight has me suspicious. It feels like an L shaped block of steel, which isn’t far off from the truth. As soon as I clear the red and black checkered wrapping paper my eyes fix on a beautifully engraved pistol. I should be terrified to be holding a gun, I should be worried that their idea of a good gift is a gun.
But I’m not.
I’m floored by the intricate paisley detail of the engravings carefully etched into the metal. And I’m even more touched knowing they probably spent hours making this for me.Me!I know how much they charge rich guys online for one of their handcrafted firearms and here they are just handing one over to me as a Christmas present.
I lift disbelieving eyes to Jason first, seeing the glimmer of hope there, hope that I’ll appreciate the gesture. Then turn my gaze to Dylan who’s bright smile brings mist to my dry eyes.
“You made this for me?” I ask dubiously. A steady nod comes from Jason to confirm what I already know. “But this must have taken you both hours?”
“Well, we wanted to do something special for you. Besides, it’s not like we have a bunch of gifts for women lying around.” Dylan laughs.
“But you’ve already done so much for me.” I remind them. “My crappy drawings pale in comparison to this.”
“They aren’t crappy,” Dylan insists while Jason conveys the same sentiment with a shake of his head. “In fact, they’re on the same level. They’re both from the heart and hard work.”
There’s a keen crumpling in my heart I haven’t felt before. I should havefelt this before. I’ve received some beautiful gifts from my parents before. Designer bags, the latest phone, anything I ask them for. But nothing has ever held so much sentiment as this. No one has ever made me anything, not even a handmade valentine in grade school. This is the most selfless gift I’ve ever received. And it is a gift, a gift of unconditional friendship. I don’t know how they can see me that way when I’ve been such a burden, but I’m so honored.
