A Handfasting Gift

Last week I opened an unfamiliar looking envelope; it wasn't a bill wrapped in brown, it wasn't a bank statement and it didn't look like junk mail. There's something marvellously exciting about opening snail mail when you know it is not a bill. Electronic communications are all fine and well, speedy and efficient, but they don't touch me in the same way that I can't touch them. The delight of knowing that a friend has taken the time to write, seek out a card they think is perfect or will make you laugh, going to the trouble of getting the thing in the post - it makes such a difference.

Back to my envelope... The contents were odd - not flat and all very intriguing. It was a three fold card, printed with a lovely message to wish us well on our Handfasting and a gift of crops to someone in Africa so they can grow their own produce on an allotment and feed themselves and have some to sell on or trade. Inside the package was a sachet of giant Russian sunflower seeds for planting in our garden, which is a lovely way to remind us of the gift all through the summer. The Oxfam Unwrapped gifts are such a delight, especially when you're my age and you have more tea towels and toasters than you know what to do with!

We had wondered about making a list and got totally flummoxed about it, as we're not really in need of anything for our home. We had seen the wedding list of a couple I was slightly acquainted with and it listed such interesting things as a Saville Row suit, paying for a honeymoon suite in a Cuban hotel, buying either of the grooms Churches shoes or even paying for a bouncer to guard the club door on the night of the wedding party. It was an interesting list to read, but somehow I found it rather.... rude. I had always thought of wedding lists as helping a young couple to start out in their own home and the gifts being something for them to use to begin that life. Now, this may seem like a rant, but two highly paid city types ought to be able to buy their own outfits, surely?! I digress. We talked about making a list and then gave up talking about it because there wasn't anything we could think of and it seemed greedy and pointless. For us, it was more important that the friends we care about shared our celebration and pitched up, than the material things.

Anyway, when I read the message in the envelope, it made me cry. I was so touched as it came from someone who I think of as a dear friend, even though we mostly communicate by electrons. More than anything, it made me cry because it turned up on the date of another postponement and reminded me that it's all turning into a bit of a comedy of errors. Imbolc was supposed to be the date we finally got around to it - not necessarily the legal bit, but certainly the making of vows. I had picked the date as it seemed like a good time - growing light, the moon phase was good and all it needed was a little organisation. Well, it didn't happen. There is now a date scheduled in September and the legal bit is booked, the honeymoon sorted but each time I ask, there's always a reason to not sit down and sort out the detail. I do wonder if we will end up postponing again, the way things are going.

So, I have a dilemma: do I return this lovely gift, that was given in such good heart (though I'm not sure it is possible to do it), do I keep the card and seeds tucked away in case things actually happen, or do I admit that after four failed dates, the fifth is likely to go the same way and if so, what on earth do I do with the gift? I have had pen poised over a thank you card and I really don't know what to say. If things do happen, I would want this person to be at the celebration, but maybe it is the leaden gloom of another wet, cloudy day in February that is making me pessimistic... I'm not sure how to handle this.