The hard work of giving — and receiving
The gift from my godmother was an anthology of children’s stories — a replica of one already on the family bookshelf, but I was happy to receive my very own copy for my own shelf. Which is exactly what my seven-year-old self said in the thank you note that I was laboriously composing at the kitchen table while my mother did the dishes. When Mum read my words, she suggested that I maybe didn’t need to include the bit about the family already having a copy, but I insisted. I likely thumped my fist on the table and maybe I stormed off in a huff at having my message edited; I can well imagine I might have. In the end, I believe the note was sent as I had written it; maybe not, I don’t remember. But what I do remember is the feeling of fraughtness associated with a gift given and the obligation to acknowledge it in a socially and personally acceptable way. In short, what I remember to this day — and know from ongoing experience — is that gift giving and gift receiving is ha...