The Perfect Gift

            A friend I kept from High School was always remembering my children with an array of gifts; especially at Christmas. She often said,

            “Don’t buy anything for me. I enjoy buying for the children.”

            It was this way for years. She was single. Her life was built around her dog, Alexander. When visiting her one day, we watched as Alexander played fetch with her. She threw a tennis ball and the dog ran and got it. In his mouth he brought the ball. He dropped it in front of her. He was waiting for her to throw again. She did this until eventually the dog got tired and laid down beneath her feet to rest. And then the idea came. I would discuss with the children later.

            I knew it would be hard to match my friend’s kindness. I wouldn’t even try. But she had given to my children. And so; I would give to her child. Being she was single and no children, the dog had in a sense become her child. But again, I didn’t want to buy as she said not to buy anything. And so; I talked my idea over with the children.

            We went to the park often and near the park was a tennis court. People played there often and left their tennis balls. It was hard to believe they didn’t see them as the area was clear of any debris. But yet; players left balls frequently. For months at a time, we collected left tennis balls. By Christmas, we had accumulated more than a hundred.

            And so, here was, “The Perfect Gift.” We didn’t buy anything. We weren’t giving her anything. We would give to her baby. It would be hard for her to refuse. After the children finished opening their Christmas presents from my friend, they waited around to watch her open hers. I brought from another room a large box wrapped with her name on it and pushed it in front of her. She asked,

            “What’s this?”

            “It’s a gift for you!”

            “I told you not to buy me anything.”

            “We didn’t!” I replied, “Just open it!”

            As she opened it and saw the contents, she began to laugh,

            “I love it! Where did you get all these tennis balls?”

            The story was told on how we had collected them. She couldn’t seem to stop laughing,     “Alexander will love these,” She continued,”He tears them up so fast. Tennis balls can be expensive.”

            “Not when you find them.” I snickered.

            “If you all should see any more at the park when you go, I’ll take them. But then, I’m not asking?”

            Laughing ourselves, we agreed. It was a simple task to accomplish. The children are all grown up now. The friend somehow disappeared when the children grew up and Alexander passed away. But a tennis ball found even today may still wind up in the trunk of my car. There’s a dog out there somewhere in need of a tennis ball to play with.

            It was a wonderful time of days gone by, but still the memory of it still manages to live on.