Today is my birthday. It’s not an important birthday, just a number on the way from a number I really liked, creeping towards a number I’m not really looking forward to. Just a regular birthday. For the past week I have done my best to celebrate it with all those close to me so that I could spend today in a more quiet way. Thursday I went roller skating with some of my closest friends. Over the weekend I went to San Francisco with my parents where we perused various stores inundated with holiday décor and wintery cheer. Later this week will be spent in a wonderful local getaway from reality trip with Mr. Wonderdul.  Today? Just quiet reflection on a great year that I had, and my plans for the year up ahead.

I woke up early this morning before my alarm even went off. I fixed my coffee and then checked the mirror for any new wrinkles that might have appeared overnight. So far, so good – just the same ones that were there the day before. I sat with my coffee and newspaper, my daily egg and toast breakfast and a little Iron & Wine music on the iPhone to keep me company on a quiet morning. The kids’ alarm went off, and my son crept downstairs.

“Happy Birthday Mom,” he said, sheepishly. He had been agonizing over the past few weeks over what to get me. I had told him over and over again that he didn’t need to get me anything. And if he really did want to get me something, he could clean his room and be nice to his sister. So of course he wanted to get me a gift instead. But he had no money, and he had no idea what to make. He didn’t want to draw me a picture. He was past the age of feeling that this was an acceptable gift to give. And he didn’t know how to write a story as I did every year for my own parents. So he told me that he might not be able to get me anything. But at last minute he had worked something out in secret. He told me that if he gave it to me, it had to just be me and him around. He didn’t want anyone to laugh at him over his gift.

“Honey, I’m sure that whatever you give me will be lovely. No one is going to laugh,” I reassured him.

“Well, I still don’t want to give it to you in front of anyone.” He made me promise that we weren’t having anyone over that night, and that he could give it to me alone. I said that would be fine.

I could tell that morning that he was hanging by the stairs timidly, and it had to be about the gift. “Where’s your sister?” I asked him.

“She’s still in bed waking up. Can I bring you my present now?” he asked, seizing the opportunity.

“I would love that,” I said, and he bounded upstairs. He cautiously made his way back down, precariously balancing a large wrapped gift in his hands. I was surprised, as I had no idea what to expect, but figured it would be smaller than that. It was wrapped in my best wrapping paper, though not taped. So the wrapping paper hung off it, sure to slip off of his hand wasn’t covering it.

“It’s not really wrapped well,” he said. “And I’m sorry that I ruined your best wrapping paper.”

“Honey, it’s beautiful. You did a great job.” I took the package from his hands and carefully took the paper off to reveal a shoe box. On the lid was a picture of my daughter and me that we took when we all went out to lunch a year ago. “I love this picture!” I exclaimed, remembering how we had all ordered Coke Floats and burgers, eating in a restaurant near the river in Petaluma. I opened the box and saw the detail he had put forth. He had used a hot glue gun to create an ocean scene, my favorite place in the world. I hadn’t even known he was creating it, he had been so secretive! He had used strips of paper, and then dabbed bits of glue into jewel-like dots that symbolized water speckles. He had also glued rocks and shells we had found at the beach onto the “sand”. Surrounding the ocean scene he had included pictures of our family. The pictures were of his favorite times in his life – a picture of him and his sister, his father, of me and him, and of him with his father’s parents.

When someone gives a gift with their heart, you can see pieces of them in the gift. This was true of my son as I saw all the things that were important to him being presented to me. Now, his dad and I have been divorced for 5 years, a divorce that was very tumultuous and ugly before it got to the amicable place it is now. I have since moved on in life and in love. My son loves Mr. Wonderful, the man I have been with for over a year now. And he talks often of the future of all of us. But I also know that he loves his dad with such furiousness. The gift he gave me was made with all his heart. And while in the moment I was curious as to why he gave me a gift with my ex-husband’s face in it, I realize now it is just because his father is a big part of his world that he was sharing with me. The gift he gave me portrayed the parts of my life that I love mixed with the parts of life that he loves. In this box was the family that was separated, but still all together in his heart.

“Do you like it?” he asked fearfully.

“Sweetheart, I love it. This is perfect.”

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