Sometimes the book is secondary

It's wonderful to receive books, but sometimes a gift is all about the presentation.
Christmas morning our oldest son, Mike, gave my husband and me a slim volume of poetry by Billy Collins. Then he proceeded to read one of the poems, "The Lanyard," about the love between mother and child. By the end we were laughing and crying and my husband was rushing for the box of tissues. That reading was the true gift.
Not to be outdone, our youngest son, Peter, opened his backpack and explained that he hadn't wrapped our gift, another book. But he didn't think that the cover was good enough and so, late on Christmas Eve, he rummaged through the old toy closet, found some ancient, but still usable tempera paints, and fashioned his own cover for "The Color Purple." He eloquently explained all of this, then brought out a book with a simple, beautiful cover.
I'm sure I'll enjoy both books. But the giving is what I'll remember.