One of my close neighbors always visits after my birthday parties, and always comes prepared with a gift.
Receiving gifts I like. It’s her choice in gifts that I have a problem with.
Until I turned ten, she would only give me Power Rangers paraphernalia. Once the double digits came, I developed a stockpile of useless home décor.
Explain what use a 12-year-old has with a ceramic clown. Exactly.
On my sweet sixteen, my neighbor attached a note to my gift: “Hope you like it. I’m sure you’ll need it.”
It was a book. Lost Girls to be precise. Finally, an actual gift!
I normally read the back or inside cover before opening a book, but this time I went all carpe
diem and opened to the centerfold.
I learned three things that moment.
1. Lost Girls is a graphic novel.
2. Lost Girls has very vivid, very detailed images
3. I didn’t like the gift.
One word popped out from the book jacket, which I mistakenly read too late.
Erotica. Lost Girls is erotica.
I still sent her the obligatory thank-you card.
As for the book? It’s stashed in the dark recesses of my garage.
Lesson: It’s the thought that counts. No matter where that thought comes from, it counts. Also, always read book jacket summaries. Always.