gifts.

He had never given her anything, really: she had never received a letter, nor even a birthday card; she had never been given flowers, nor even a small piece of jewellery. He had, however, given her his time, many words of kindness, comfort and encouragement – even praise – a safe heart in which to confide, trusting and knowing glances and frequent friendly smiles. And perhaps in a way, these gifts were better: in order to be appreciated completely, they required her to be fully present in the moment of receiving them, such that her heart may be affected by them to such an extent that, once the moment over, the marks left on her heart are the only evidence of having been cared for and loved by another. It was their very nature – intangible and invisible – that rendered these gifts so valuable, more so than any physical gift he may have ever presented her.

Published by Eliza

Writing helps me find myself.

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