I returned to work today, after having a day off, and in the top of my document tray sat a red envelope with my name on it. The writing looked familiar, so I forgot about it for a while. Then, I looked back and realised it was Johns handwriting. What could this mean?? He doesn't seem the Christmas card type.
I waited until he had left the room and I opened it. The words contained within the shiny card were lovely, and sweet and not really something I expected (...clearly I am easily impressed when it comes to John). The stab though, it was signed off 'Love & Best Wishes, John'. Oh. My.
I don't know if I'm just weird, but I kind of get a bit funny about the way I sign letters and cards off. Perhaps I over think it a bit - but I don't deal out 'love' very often at all. If it's someone I don't know overly well, I might sign it off 'Best Wishes, StrangeBird'.... if I'm feeling a mutual appreciation for the person, I usually sign it off with a love heart. If I actually write the word 'love' in its entirety, it's after much consideration, and usually only if I know the person on the receiving end will be comfortable with it.
Perhaps John is simply a 'love and best wishes' kinda guy - but it's kind of like going from 0 to 10 on the 'John affection scale'. No wonder I'm confused. I gather he gave all of my work mates cards; maybe he was feeling sentimental after making his decision to leave, and perhaps he even wrote the same stock-standard kind things in every ones card. It might not seem much from the outside - but to me it kind of felt like a semi-big-ish deal.
Put it down to the season, a momentary lapse in common sense or me being swept away with the vibe of Christmas - but I started to tear up. I know, lame. Really lame. I held the closed card to my chest for a moment, pondered my sad thoughts and then pulled myself together. You cannot get emotional this early in the day StrangeBird... save it for home. I sat the card back in my tray, as if untouched. If it were appropriate and possible for me to do so, I would've hugged him tightly then and there.
When John came to talk with me later on in the morning, I noticed a brief but obvious glance at my document tray - as if to say 'I wonder if she's seen it yet'. Yes I have and no, I can't acknowledge it right now.
It wasn't until I walked out the door at the days end, red envelope tightly in hand, that I thanked him for the card. I've looked at it once since, and promptly hid it away again. It must seem silly, but never has a card dealt me such a sad blow.
Never do I take for granted, that words have great power.