Another attempt at bending my own earwires. They're not perfect, but I think Steph likes them anyway. And I resisted the urge to slip in a note reminding her "it's the thought that counts." It's true, of course. It is the thought that counts. (The thought I was going for: You'll be missed.)
Once Coach wrote me a love essay. He quoted R.W. Emerson, who said: "Jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself... it is a cold, lifeless business when you go to the shops to buy me something, which does not represent your life and talent, but a goldsmith’s."*
I'll admit I kind of like the irony of turning Emerson's statement on its head by giving jewels that are a portion of myself. But more than that, I like the underlying sentiment, that something from me is better than something from a store, even though that something from me is not ever perfect. It's fitting, really, because neither am I.
*From Essays and English Traits, XIII Gifts, quoted here.
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