My husbands cousin has come for a visit.
Perhaps Im old-fashioned, or maybe things have changed nowadays, but I find it hard to believe its really different.
My mother never sat me down and said, If youre going to visit relatives, bring a gift with you. She never taught me that. Still, its something Ive just always felt was right, almost like its second nature. I cant even say really where I picked it upmaybe from books, films, or plays, but there it is.
On Saturday, my husbands cousin arrived. He came for his uncles funeral, though not from our side of the family.
Wed been asked in advance if we could put them up for the night, and we agreed; they didnt have to worry about anything.
They arrived in the evening, the three of themhim, his son, and his daughter-in-law. I cooked dinner, roasted a whole tray of meat, prepared salads, and so on. We raised a glass to seeing each other again, since it had been such a long time since our last meeting. Afterwards, I settled everyone into their rooms, and then in the morning, I made breakfastsandwiches, tea, and coffee.
Then they left for the funeral. When they returned, they stayed for a bit before heading back home.
Everything seemed fine on the surface. But they showed up empty-handed; not even a bottle of wine as a token gesture.
My husbands father, now passed away, was the godfather of this cousin, and his wifemy mother-in-lawlives with us still, which the cousin knows well. Were not in need, thank heavens, but he might have thought to bring an elderly lady a box of chocolates. Shed been looking out of the window all Saturday, waiting, hoping for something. She was so moved, she even shed a tear.
I know Id have done things differently.
For starters, Id have brought a drinkmore than just a token bottle or two. The children and older relatives would have something sweet as a treat, and there would certainly be a little souvenir for everyone. Id have given some thought to what small gifts might suit each person.
And Id also have brought my own bedding, just to keep from causing any trouble.
These arent people who are short of money; if they were, Id never dream of complaining. But this cousin rarely comes to visit, and every time, he arrives without a thing. Once he was here on businesssent down on a work trip. He turned up late Sunday and left by Monday, again without so much as a box of biscuits.
All he seems to want to talk about is how much hes caught fishing and what sort of fish they were. Id have loved if hed brought just one for me.
Honestly, I dont mind the cost of feeding my guests, not one bit, but it does leave me feeling a bit put out. A bit like Ive been taken for granted.
And really, its like this every timeStill, as I tidied up after theyd gone, I paused by the kitchen window, looking out at my little garden in the weak morning sun. The house felt quieter, but not emptier. My mother-in-law was humming softly to herself, her spirits lifted just enough, I suppose, by the gatheringeven with nothing to unwrap.
I thought about all the times Id welcomed guests, all the ways Id been raised to make occasions special; the pride I took in each thoughtful detail. I decidedquietly and firmlythat I wouldnt let their oversight harden me. My care was not a debt owed, but a part of who I was.
Later that afternoon, I caught my mother-in-law sitting by the window once more, watching a pair of pigeons fluttering across the garden wall. She smiled at me, her face delicate with lines but suddenly young with laughter.
“You know,” she said, “when your husband was a boy, he used to catch fish in that river, just past the lane. Always brought me one, too small to cook but wrapped in newspaper, proud as a prince.” She chuckled. “Sometimes the smallest gesture is the most precious.”
I brought her a cup of tea and we watched the pigeons together in silence, the warmth of home wrapping around us both. Perhaps next time the cousin visited, Id tease him about the fishmaybe even tell him he owed me one. Until then, Id keep my cupboard stocked with gifts, just in case someone came who remembered that old-fashioned kind of gratitude. Or, perhaps, someone who simply needed it.
And, as the day faded, I realizedoftentimes, its the hosts who teach the guests how to bring their best selves. And sometimes, the gift you offer is the one you give yourself: pride in your own kindness, and a memory, simple and sweet, to keep.
