what's in a name?

we had a little pre-christmas last night, and it was swell. there were ipods and peacoats and earrings, oh my! the earrings i thought the postman stole magically appeared after three weeks and they are *magnificent* ... the pearls are big and perfect, the diamonds sparkly enough. it was a christmas miracle, i'm not gonna lie. the best gift, though, wasn't the biggest. and i'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to make me cry. or relive childhood torment ...

when i was a kid, i never got anything with my name on it. not because my parents hated me or anything ... but i'm not mary or amy or melissa. they don't make little license plates or key chains with my name on it. it never seemed quite fair. and my friends' parents would try, they really would, but the party favors, little wooden shoes (this is what happens when you grow up in holland, michigan) and other pointless knick-knacks would have my name, but spelled wrong. i've seen more variations on my name ...

so i've relied on s. i sign emails and letters that way, have a pottery barn s on my side of the bed, and have piles of s notecards. i blog as s. i was thrilled the first time i got business cards with my name professionally printed ...

last night, rk gave me a bag from LL Bean with my full name sewn on. not just s, not sm or sb, the whole thing.

what's funny is that rk had no idea about all these strange childhood issues, this love/hate relationship with my name. but b does, and when he saw it, all he could do was clasp his hand to his mouth and try to will me not to cry.

isn't that what a best friend should be able to do? give you a perfect gift without even knowing?