What’s the best present you’ve ever received that was handmade by the giver, not store-bought? Tell us what made it so special.
I love writing; anything to do with lacing alphabets into words, I love.
Just over an year ago, back in October of last year, I went to this Leadership Camp with a few of my other friends and classmates. On Day 4 or so, after a long 8 hour introspective session about our lives, our mentor gave the 25 of us a piece of paper. He told us to take 30 minutes to write a letter to someone who means or meant a lot to you, telling them everything you’ve never told them before. I took a moment and without further adieu, wrote a letter to my Dad. When time was up and I looked around, the room was full of emotion; some people in tears, some people with smiles that I’ve never seen with so much truth in them. People were whispering to each other of who they wrote to. Mothers, fathers, sisters, best friends, ex-girlfriends, were the more common ones. I looked at my friends, who smiled back at me. But the smile of one of my best friends caught on to me for a bit. He just smiled and didn’t tear away his glance from me. I gave him a nod and looked back down at my letter, still feeling the gaze on me however.
Later that night, when we were eating dinner, we all said who we wrote our letters to and why. “Through the last few months, with so much of pressure from school and being carried away with so many other supposed priorities, I don’t think I’ve told my Dad how much he means to me. I wanted to remind him of the memories, the good times” is what I said. We all went about in a small circle to land at that friend again. It seemed like people knew already so they let it go. But that’s when I I looked into his eyes and asked, “So who is it?” After a few seconds of silence, he said, “She’s wearing a Hollister shirt” Almost instinctively, I looked down to see my striped shirt with that familiar red seagull. I looked back up and was as confused as my face revealed to be. “But why? Huh?” was all that seemed to come out of me. He laughed and despite rounds of begging, he refused to show me the letter. With reluctance, I let go for that night, but not without pleading him a bunch of times.
The next night, after dinner, we were all spread about – some playing frisbee, some talking in groups. And then, thats when he came up to me and said, “Hey want to see the letter?” Obviously, I was quite elevated and he ran into his tent to get out a couple of papers. ‘Yeeeeeeee OMG I wonder what it’s about’ was all that went through my head. And then, we sat down on the stone pavement outside the tent. He opened the letters and I peered over in curiosity to see what it was about. That’s when he put them behind himself and told me that he was going to read it out instead – no, it wasn’t in sweet gesture in particular, but because his handwriting was too hard to comprehend apparently.
And then, it began. I just listened to him talk the letter out loud. It wasn’t perfectly structured, it wasn’t drafted out in lines; it was heartfelt, it was all his cluttered thoughts put out on paper randomly and it was beautiful. It was three pages long and those few minutes listening to him talk, were so memorable, they still ring in my head to this day. He ended it on a really nice note, and all I could do was throw him a side hug and give him a thank you, with my arms in goosebumps.
That handwritten letter is my most favorite present till date. It was from the heart and it felt like the warm truth. He wrote it for me when we were told to write it to someone who means a lot to you – clearly, meaning so much. He wrote it for me, when it wasn’t my Birthday or my Graduation day. He wrote it for me, and it made me feel right.
Plus, I love writing; anything to do with lacing alphabets into words, I love.