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She sat in her little cottage
Her ears tuned
Her body alive
Waiting…
Waiting for that knock on the door
Anytime now
She pulled back the frilly curtains
And peered out at the gathering dusk
The time when most of her visitors
Would knock at her door
Looking for word gifts
To fill up their souls

It was the third day…
It was the third night…
And she kept her vigil
With her candle lit
To ward off the loneliness
That was creeping in on her
She fought it away
Repositioning the candle
To make sure that its light
Would be a welcome sight
To her longed for visitors

Only one thing worried her
What would she offer them as presents?
She had nothing to give
And this was the custom 
In these parts
The tradition
The giving and getting of word presents
That's why she had moved here

She fondly fingered on of the presents
Given to her 
By one of her most cherished visitors
A token of love and friendship
Of constancy
And yet….
Where was he?
Now when she was destitute
Now when she was dry
With no gifts to offer
She had been forgotten by them all
Forgotten by him
She fought back the tears
Willing to believe

The candle flickered and died out
The moonlight
Filtered in through her window
Comforting her with its magical
Dream formations
On her wooden floor
She sighed
She had given all that she had
Did they love her only for her gifts?
Could they not just reopen her gifts and look inside?
If not that…what about the other unopened ones
The older ones
The ones that she had shyly left
Outside their doors
When she had newly moved in
And was yet unknown

Once one of them had opened a gift
The news had spread
That there was someone new in the area
With word gifts to give
Some were crude
But others were beautiful
With her own distinctive design
All wrapped with her love
Each scented by her perfume
Her signature scent

Now she was poor
No gifts
No perfume
No words
Empty....
Why didn't they come to visit?
Why didn't they open the ones of long ago
That still lay around their homes…unopened

She brushed away a tear
Perhaps she’d been forgotten
Perhaps she just wasn’t good enough
For this part of the country
She decided
On the morrow
She would leave
Though it would make her heart bleed
But wait…
A faint knock on the door
A familiar knock
She sprang to her feet
And swung upon the door
There he stood
A smile on his face
“I haven’t seen you for a while
Your gifts used to bring me a smile
Sorry it’s late
I just couldn't wait
To tell you…
I found the unopened gift
It still bore your scent
It reminded me of you
The beauty of your soul
And how you make me whole
Here I am…
Here I am to tell you
I’ve missed your gifts
But more than that…
I’ve missed the giver!”

With tears streaming down
But a smile on her face
She took his hand
And led him inside
The home of her heart
For a nice long sweet visit
With one of her favorite
Giver of gifts!

Eileen Manassian Ghali
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