Well, really now. I am not one to start going on about my good fortune. I am, after all, a Russian immigrant and terribly superstitious. I don't like to invite fate or irony by proclaiming how very lucky I am.
But. But yesterday I was very, very lucky.
When I got home from work last night, late and tired and worried about the rain and what it seems to be doing to our drywall, I found a package on the porch. Look, just look, what was in it:
When I pulled this stocking out I literally started to weep. It is the softest, most beautiful thing you can imagine. There's something about the smell and the heft of it, too, that is so incredibly comforting. Even Josh caught his breath when he came home and saw it.
And, as if the stocking wasn't one thousand times more than enough, it was filled with an embarrassment of thoughtful riches. (There was a Santa toy in here, too, but the baby absconded with it before I had a chance to pull out the camera). There are lollies and cakes and cookies and teas and soaps and a candle and ornament and So. Much. Chocolate. (I gave Dash a piece of orange-flavored chocolate last night and when he woke up this morning he went running over to the table to demand more. At 6am! I must stop giving him candy.)
Thank you, Marianne. Thanks for the beautiful letter and the amazing gifts and for the love you shared with a stranger this Christmas. I hope it is repaid to you a million fold. And I pray my package (which pales so desperately in comparison) gets to you before Christmas.