Finding Your Way

I commend anyone who can tell me how this makes sense. Somehow it always develops among groups of friends the obligatory holiday tradition of exchanging gifts. Do we all know the burden, the frustration, of being a poor 7th grade student who has to shop for too many friends?

Secret Santa was the best invention ever, where among a large group, one person gets one surprise gift, and everybody leaves happy.

Randomly selected, I was Amy's secret Santa. There's something that should be known about Amy, though. She's one tough cookie, matured beyond her again, knows what she wants, and has the boldness to say exactly what she thinks. Great gal, we had a lot of fun, and this memory makes me miss her oh so much. Good thing there's facebook.

Somehow Amy managed to figure out it was me or perhaps I blew my cover. What she wanted was music. Not just any music. She wanted music that was like a New Age Cranberries.

Perfect. My friend Alex was my go to for New Age selections. She told me to get Enya. This was pre-Friends, pre-Lord of the Rings. At that point in time, I bet precious few knew about Enya. I must have asked, 'Who the beep is Enya?' Nevertheless, that's what Amy got from me that holiday season. 

Years later when the name was household, I thought of Amy. I haven't asked her yet, but I think I should - "So how did you like those Enya CDs I got you?"