We celebrated Thanksgiving at my sister’s house this year. A few days off from the real thing, but it’s all good. In my family a holiday is when the people gather, not the other way around.
My most memorable moment came from my six year old niece. A sweet little lovebug of a girl who tapped me on my thigh and beckoned me downward. She opened a box and showed me two beautiful cards stored neatly in envelopes with handwritten notes inside.
As I leaned closer, I realized that these were cards that I had sent her.
I made a joke – silly girl, showing me my own cards! I had seen them already. The bird designs, picked out on Amazon for their multipackiness. The glittery sticker in her favorite color. The large, printed writing I hoped might help her read. They all said some form of the same sentiment: How are you today? I miss you. What are you learning in school?
You took great care of them! I responded. I praised her care-full nature. She has many siblings; this is no small feat.
She looked at me with wide solemn eyes and replied,
I saved them so I’ll remember you when you’re dead.
Suddenly the big things became very little and the little things became very big. The time I’d spent stressing on a project this weekend. The glitch in my website I’d needed to fix. The to dos and the ones I’d hurriedly written down and crossed off in quick succession. It was important, sure. But not that important.
Had I taken that same care to make sure she received a different card design each time? A thoughtful message? A sticker in just the right shade?
I will now, for sure.