A package of paper can last a lifetime

Wanting to write this down is what caused me to start blogging:

When I was little we would go to Utah to visit my mom's family, usually around Christmas, which was probably so my little sister and I would get to see some snow, which was a novelty for children growing up in Southern California. We would always stay with one of my mom's younger brothers and his family. I remember one visit my uncle needed the driveway shoveled and asked for a volunteer. I had never done it before, and it involved snow, so I though it would be fun. My uncle said he would bring me a gift home that day for shoveling the driveway. He brought me a shovel, and I got to work.

I learned very quickly that shoveling a driveway clear of snow is not fun. It's hard, especially when you're 10 years old and not really used to shoveling. I remember having a hard time clearing it all the way, so there was a skim of ice on the cement. Nevertheless, I finished shoveling all the snow, albeit rather haphazardly.

I figured with all that hard work I was bound to get something neat, some kind of toy that would be a lot of fun. So you can imagine I might have been a little disappointed to get a pack of multicolored construction paper. I tried to look grateful, but looking back and realizing how easily adults can see through children's fake emotions, I probably looked like an ungrateful brat. The neat thing, though, is that the paper lasted a lot longer than any toy. I took it home and put it in the bottom drawer of my desk, which was large enough to put file folders in. Every now and again I would need paper for some project and I would go grab my construction paper. I ran low on greens and reds first, then yellow and blue. I remember still having a few dozen pieces when I was in high school, and every time I opened up that drawer I would think of my uncle and his gift.

I've graduated from college now, and the construction paper is long gone. But I still remember that gift, and I've been able to get to know my uncle better as well. I've shoveled a lot more snow now than I ever thought I would, and I don't get any gifts for it anymore, except maybe the satisfaction of knowing I won't slip and kill myself. But every now and again I remember the first time I shoveled snow, and I think of my uncle every time.