As you read this post, I’m getting ready to drive to Minneapolis to pick up my darling daughter at the airport. She just finished her freshman year in Boston and is headed back to Southern California for the summer. However, she’s stopping in Minnesota to spend a week with me at Little House on the Prairie.
I’m over-the-moon we will get to spend Mother’s Day together. Having her with me is the best possible gift.
Speaking of Mother’s Day gifts, I’m reposting from last year. So, if you are new to Dating Dementia or in case you missed this when it originally ran last May, please take a read. And, to women everywhere: Happy Mother’s Day.
Originally Posted on May 7, 2011
Over the years my daughter has given me an array of wonderful Mother’s Day gifts. When she was little, they were all handmade items like sweet cards and pictures, decorated wooden boxes and hand-strung jewelry. I’ve kept them all. They are treasures beyond value and each one brings a smile and a cherished memory.
My former husband — referred to FH in this blog — also gave me many Mother’s Day gifts over the years. Usually it was a gift certificate to a local spa or department store along with a card and flowers. The gifts were always nice but I certainly wouldn’t describe them as inspired.
However, one Mother’s Day stood out among all the others. I’m thinking it was probably about a decade ago. There was the usual card, bouquet and a small bag that I thought contained the prerequisite gift certificate. Yet, when I opened the bag I found a fancy note that told me my gift was waiting in the garage. My heart skipped a beat. A new car?
No, it wasn’t a new car. It was car mats.
These were not just your run-of-the-mill, off-the-shelf car mats. These were luxury mats with embossed logos that perfectly matched the interior of my beloved Infiniti. FH has gone to several stores and auto dealerships, but finding all of their mats inadequate, he had special ordered a set of expensive, custom mats just for me. I was floored (sorry, couldn’t resist).
Since I was speechless, FH initially thought I was angry.
I wasn’t angry. I was touched. Touched that he had thought of something that I would really enjoy. Touched that he planned weeks ahead and followed through, which was not his strength.
To this day, I can still recall the feeling of taking out the old mats and putting in the new set. They looked great. I felt great. No, what I really felt was appreciated. That’s what felt great.