Gifted

When the gifts started to trickle in, I gave my son a shoebox and said, “Put all the checks in here, and keep a list of who gave what.”

Which he did rather meticulously, tallying up his growing collection with joy.

And just this week, yet another Ikea bookshelf graces our home, right outside the boys’ bedroom. Now we can unpack the impressive Shas he got from his aunts and uncles; the red Avnei Miluim; the gleaming volumes that stand upright on the still dust-free shelf.

But then there are the gifts that don’t fit into shoeboxes, or shelves, or even albums.