If someone asked you, what was one of the kindest, most thoughtful things that anyone has ever done for you that you have never forgotten, what would come to your mind?
A memory of this came to me as I was going through the contents a box of items I had stored away, I began reminiscing through the memories years ago, and a treasured reminder came back to me.
As a timid child, in the first grade my teacher was Mrs. Nicholson. She made it a point to assign each of her student's seats in the classroom alphabetically. My seat was the last one on the last row in the very back of the class, and her rule was there would be no changing of seats.
Our art and coloring activities time were immediately after lunch each day. Mrs. Nicholson would call us forward, row-by-row one at a time to select our crayons of choice from the large plastic gallon ice cream bucket that served as a communal crayon container. Because of the appointed seating arrangements, I was always almost the last child to choose mine.
Imagine the disappointment day after day when I selected my crayons knowing those of us who were the last in line only got the leftover broken crayons, while those who went before us always got the better ones. It hardly seemed fair and I felt deprived. I asked our teacher if she would consider reversing this order to let the last row go first occasionally but she held steadfast to her strict way of doing things, and wouldn't budge at my suggestion.
I soon began disliking coloring class because I never got my favorite colors, which were shades of midnight blue or navy blue. The only blue crayons I ever got lucky enough to pick out were short nubs, broken ones with the paper peeled off them. I managed to pick out the best I could of any leftovers blue ones. Blue was my favorite color back then, and still is today.
About thirty-five years later I received an unexpected package in the mail and as I began to unwrap it I was surprised to find huge boxes of crayons-- hundreds of crayons. I thought to myself, what will I ever do with all of these crayons. It was when I opened up the individual boxes the tears flooded my eyes, inside of each box revealed only blue crayons -- not another color -- only beautiful, brand new, never used perfect blue crayons with the wrappers still intact.
How my heart sang at 41 years old to receive this thoughtful gift, and read the touching letter that was enclosed. Surely no one else in the world could ever relate to this special gift.
Years earlier, I had told my then fiancé about the story about me disliking to color in elementary school, and he remembered this and took it upon himself to make sure I would never have to use another ugly broken blue crayon ever again. My sweet Eric went out of his way to buy up tons of crayons and hand pick out all of the blue ones to give to me.
When I asked him what he did with all of the other crayons, he laughed and replied, "I gave them to a daycare center, and apologized because there were no blue crayons in the boxes".
That was one of the sweetest, most romantic things anyone has ever done for me. I will cherish his kindness forever. Even today, when we take our grandson with us out to eat at restaurants and Zachary is given crayons and paper to play with while waiting for our food, Eric sometimes will reserve the pretty blue crayons just for me to save.
I can never look at another blue crayons again without remembering this precious memory of all those beautiful new blue colors my wonderful husband gave to me many years ago.
A memory of this came to me as I was going through the contents a box of items I had stored away, I began reminiscing through the memories years ago, and a treasured reminder came back to me.
As a timid child, in the first grade my teacher was Mrs. Nicholson. She made it a point to assign each of her student's seats in the classroom alphabetically. My seat was the last one on the last row in the very back of the class, and her rule was there would be no changing of seats.
Our art and coloring activities time were immediately after lunch each day. Mrs. Nicholson would call us forward, row-by-row one at a time to select our crayons of choice from the large plastic gallon ice cream bucket that served as a communal crayon container. Because of the appointed seating arrangements, I was always almost the last child to choose mine.
Imagine the disappointment day after day when I selected my crayons knowing those of us who were the last in line only got the leftover broken crayons, while those who went before us always got the better ones. It hardly seemed fair and I felt deprived. I asked our teacher if she would consider reversing this order to let the last row go first occasionally but she held steadfast to her strict way of doing things, and wouldn't budge at my suggestion.
I soon began disliking coloring class because I never got my favorite colors, which were shades of midnight blue or navy blue. The only blue crayons I ever got lucky enough to pick out were short nubs, broken ones with the paper peeled off them. I managed to pick out the best I could of any leftovers blue ones. Blue was my favorite color back then, and still is today.
About thirty-five years later I received an unexpected package in the mail and as I began to unwrap it I was surprised to find huge boxes of crayons-- hundreds of crayons. I thought to myself, what will I ever do with all of these crayons. It was when I opened up the individual boxes the tears flooded my eyes, inside of each box revealed only blue crayons -- not another color -- only beautiful, brand new, never used perfect blue crayons with the wrappers still intact.
How my heart sang at 41 years old to receive this thoughtful gift, and read the touching letter that was enclosed. Surely no one else in the world could ever relate to this special gift.
Years earlier, I had told my then fiancé about the story about me disliking to color in elementary school, and he remembered this and took it upon himself to make sure I would never have to use another ugly broken blue crayon ever again. My sweet Eric went out of his way to buy up tons of crayons and hand pick out all of the blue ones to give to me.
When I asked him what he did with all of the other crayons, he laughed and replied, "I gave them to a daycare center, and apologized because there were no blue crayons in the boxes".
That was one of the sweetest, most romantic things anyone has ever done for me. I will cherish his kindness forever. Even today, when we take our grandson with us out to eat at restaurants and Zachary is given crayons and paper to play with while waiting for our food, Eric sometimes will reserve the pretty blue crayons just for me to save.
I can never look at another blue crayons again without remembering this precious memory of all those beautiful new blue colors my wonderful husband gave to me many years ago.
