The other day I arrived home to a strange package, wrapped in brown paper with airmail stickers on it. I’m fairly diligent about what I buy online, and I almost never have anything shipped to my house (I can’t fully trust it wouldn’t get swiped before I got home, and plus I just like getting presents at work in the middle of the day), so it was a mystery. No return address that I could see.
Inside was a beautiful box wrapped in purple ribbon, which opened to reveal a smaller, more delicate little bundle, with heart-shaped confetti everywhere. There was a really sweet card, and I learned the present was from the incomparable Sam, celebrating my engagement. Sam and I met a long time ago, and then met officially last summer in person. She is fantastic and beautiful and a total delight to be around. Even when she’s 3000 miles away, she knows how to make a girl smile. Because look what was inside that tissue paper:
I died. Though she would take no credit for making them, I know she put a lot of time and effort into them, and I am so touched she would even think to send a present. I didn’t even do anything besides say “Yes! Get off the ground!” to a very nervous Jamal. They are now perched on our windowsill, and I get all wiggly and excited whenever I look at them. Sam, thank you so much. I love them beyond words and count myself really lucky to have a friend like you.
Damn, guys. What did I do to deserve such awesome friends?