My family will be the first to attest to it: I consider myself an independent soul. I dance to my own drum (who marches??). I color outside of lines. I often think so far outside of the box that I lose the ability to even see said box. And maybe in my independence, I forget to convey that I appreciate those who love and support me. Family especially. Friends are good, too.
My best friend lives in New Orleans. Newly married, she and her husband live in a cute townhouse in a funky neighborhood. I love to visit. In one room, they have a bookshelf that wraps around the entire room, filled with books (history books, because they are nerds like me).
I was waiting in the room yesterday, when I reached up, pulled out a book on Davy Crockett, and asked, "may I please borrow this one?" "Aw, Biz!!," they both exclaimed, "You found your Christmas present!" We all started laughing because they thought the odds of me finding this book amongst all those books were next to none and I was slightly embarrassed (I giggle when embarrassed). But my laughter also served as a way to hide the glistening of tears.
My friends knew me so well that they chose for me the one book I would have chosen for me (out of literally hundreds). They take care of me in ways I don't always realize. It is easy for me to take for granted those in my life that are close to me (even if there are physical distances... you know who you are!). But underneath my independent facade, I appreciate those gestures and cherish being cherished.
Sappy, I know. But I had to share. The end of the story includes me putting the book back and promising to act surprised when I open it. Whenever I open it, my ear-to-ear smile will not be because I am surprised; it will be because I know I am loved. I will also belt out the theme song from Disney's version of Davy Crockett, because that is how I roll.
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