There are five types of gifts, five kinds of presents
under the tree or on the breakfast table on the morning of your birthday. There
are only five.
The first type, wrapped so stunningly, excites
with its promise and, once opened, triggers glee. Glee which turns into satisfaction which
becomes appreciation then respect and then the comfort of reliable familiarity.
The second type of gift, colorfully ribbonned
and bowed, once opened, delivers delight. Delight that diminishes over time,
not much time, and finally dissipates altogether. If any memory of this first
type of gift lingers, it’s accompanied by bemusement that such a gift should have
seemed so appealing in the first place.
No less initially thrilling is the third type
of gift. Here, thriling turns into tolerable into mediocre into replacability
into intolerable, ending, at best, in a garage sale. No more than a month or
two has passed in the process.
The fourth type of wrapped gift starts like the other two, but once
unwrapped, immediately becomes a candidate for exchange or regifting to your
cousin who likes that kind of thing.
The final type of gift starts smoking hot,
burns its path through the years and, ever flaming, sears its way through your
life and beyond.
Four of the five types of gifts actually exist
in the real world.
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