December 27, 2004
I made it to Mama's house today to bring the presents I didn't bring Saturday. I know I hurt some feelings when I didn't show up, but I wasn't lying when I told mama that I would have crawled there if I could have. But I couldn't. I was really sick.
I was doing well to crawl from the bed to the bathroom and I didn't always make that trip on time.
Quinton came to visit my family on Christmas, but I didn't make it. Yep, Jennifer dropped him off just in time for breakfast that morning and he stayed for almost three hours. He had a good time and collected a lot of loot. I babbled something totally incoherent to him over the phone and wished him a Merry Christmas. I told him that I couldn't be there, but I would see him later. I hung up the phone.
I felt worse than ever when I did that.
Quinton had been hopping like spit on a griddle for three weeks, anxious for me to see the present he bought me with his own money. I told him a while back that my book was finished and I had other writing projects I intended to market after the first of the year. "I'm gonna be FAMOUS!" I said. He didn't forget that conversation.
"You'll LOVE what I got you, Daddy," he said, beaming. "It's PERFECT, especially for when you become a famous writer."
I opened that present today. It's a pen-holder in the shape of the Heisman Trophy. In a way, I'm glad that he wasn't there to see me open that box. I broke down and cried like a baby. I KNOW why he picked that one out. I KNOW what he was thinking. Football and writing, all in one package: PERFECT for Daddy, MY champion.
And it is. It's PERFECT! It's an example of everything I love about my son, and a symbol of what he thinks of me, all in one inexpensive what-not. I believe that the pen holder is the best Christmas present I ever received. That one stays in a special place for as long as I'm alive.
He was exactly right. I LOVE it.
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