The Gift

I gave you a gift. I went to the market and searched through all the stalls, remembering your face, our conversations, the time we spent together. I fondly looked over everything I could give you: time, a conversation, a hug, a bouquet.

I carefully handpicked all that I thought you needed to cheer you up; to see your lips curl into a smile, your smile lines lift my spirits. I ran here and there, bargained and argued, choosing peonies and ribbons in your favorite color. I made sure it was enough.

I packed it all and came back home with a smile on my face, dreaming of the moment you would receive it, imagining how happy you would be.

And happy you were. And I was happy until I was not. Months passed, and I did not receive any gift from you, nor did I receive a letter or a bouquet. I needed time, conversation, and flowers too.

I sat alone in my room, my hands plucking flowers that had already wilted, my candles burnt down to nothing. I peeked through the window, wondering if a gift would ever find its way to me as well.

Just then, a quiet voice in my head whispered:

“The purpose of a gift is simply to give it. If you want the gift to return to you in the same package, in the same thoughtful way, then do not give it away. Keep it for yourself. Only give it away when you no longer desire its return.”

And I realized that when I went to the market, looking through all the ribbons and bouquets and delicate little things, I was really searching for the things I needed the most. That was the true gift, the one I should have kept for myself.