I bloody love gifts, and the husband is very good at finding gorgeous ones and giving them generously for no apparent reason. You might remember me mentioning an ordinary work day when he put a little box in my hand after a visit to the barber’s and said, ‘Happy Wednesday’, just like that. No? Well he did.
This week is not a special week. I’m off for a meeting with an agent on Friday, but, other than that, it’s all work, all week. Busy, which is how I like it, but not special. Clearly, the husband felt otherwise.
I don’t even remember how he brought it up, but it was something about distractions and going to London on Friday, and suddenly, he was standing in front of me with a box in his hand. It was a small box, and old, made of some sort of leather, with gold embossed into it: My very favourite sort of box.
I opened it, and inside was a gorgeous little crescent moon brooch.
We had only remarked on how beautiful the crescent moon was a couple of days earlier, on an evening stroll home from supper. It hung in the air, almost as if swinging from bright, shiny Venus. it was the smallest sliver of a moon I had ever seen, and it was beautiful. The little brooch is exactly like it.
I still haven’t decided what to wear on Friday, and I haven’t bothered to buy anything new, so it’s bound to be plain and grey, or possibly navy blue, either way, I plan to wear the brooch.
By Friday morning, I will be prepared for the meeting, but not over-prepared. I’ll think about the things I want to think about with regard to the book, and I’ll take a quick skip back through the manuscript to remind myself of the salient points. I’ll be ready, and I’ll be as confident as I’m likely to get. Besides, the husband loves me, and it shows, and on Friday, a tiny little bit of that sentiment will sparkle beautifully, pinned to my dress as a calming reminder of what I already have.