No Birthday Gift Too Late

Margaux gave me a bag for my birthday. My birthday’s in November but she said her gift could still catch up. Besides, we weren’t too far away from the New Year yet.

I knew Margaux back in college when she did photojournalism for The Spectrum. She was a welcome ingredient to the creatively delicious pot of talent in the student publication.

Tall and ruthless with a pair of high heels, Margaux walks taller than most other girls in school, but she’s way more quiet than most of them. Or so, people usually observe, for I have had the privilege of really talking, or cyber chatting, with her to know that she too can talk nonstop.

She does talk nonstop, but seldom nonsense. In the event that she resorts to nonsensicality, it’s for a cause.

Before, I used to call her the princess in the stone castle, willing an entire household with an iron hand. Now, I fancy calling her the willful girl behind the concealing geisha makeup.

In giving me a gift, the act and the object both I utterly did not expect, she just sort of came out of the blue with it, Margaux revealed one thing about herself to me—she gives, even to people like me, who are too stingy to give her something in return. By stingy, I mean, materially. I am not stingy in spirit, and this entry is my way of saying thank you for the nice black and gold Nike I got. She’s right, there’s no birthday gift too late. And there no thank you too late either.