THE VIEW FROM HERE

With Father's Day now less than a week away, a couple of days in fact, I find myself racking my brain for the perfect gift idea for my husband, the father of our two children. Of course, the gift would be one from our daughters to their dad, and naturally, my first inclination is to try to think of something we might buy for him. Only three minor problems...
First of all, I'm a procrastinator and have, once again, run myself nearly out of time to go exploring for that “perfect gift.” And God knows, it would take time, which leads me to difficulty #2.
I'm not exactly sure I would even recognize the “perfect gift” if it jumped off the shelf on top of me.
You see, attempt after attempt to buy my husband gifts he will truly appreciate have failed and, although it leaves little to surprise, I have now resorted to asking him to pick out what he wants for most special occasions. I feel good about giving him something he will use; he feels good about getting exactly what he wants.
But to kids, surprise is half the fun, and feeling as if they've done something special for daddy fills them with such pride (Alex, at least, as Gabrielle is too young to understand just yet). No, letting daddy pick out his own Father’s Day gift simply wouldn’t do.
And finally, I have yet to think of anything that can be purchased that would instill in our daughters the feeling that they have given their father something sentimental, something only they could give. Sure, we could pick out a shirt, buy it, wrap it up, and present him with it. But years down the road, will he remember where it came from? Will our young daughters remember that they gave it to him?
I ask this because, in all my younger years, I clearly only remember those gifts I made; gifts, solely from me and of my own creation, to those I love. When one has no income, no money to buy gifts, he or she must be innovative and creative. Of that creativity, the most sentimental gifts are born.
For example, a Mother's Day gift during my elementary years was created from an empty cracker box I collected from our pantry. I cut it to size, covered all but one open side in plain white paper, and decorated it using colorful markers and crayons. Fasteners placed on one side enabled mom to secure the box to the wall next the phone, where it held within reach pens and paper for messages. It was simple. It was both practical and useful. And the giggle it evoked from my mother when presented with this gift from my heart and of my imagination filled me with such pride.
It was with the same pride that she hung the small box in place, next to the dining room telephone, and kissed and hugged me, snickering all the while.
As a mom, I now realize that she was likely not as impressed with the gift as the idea that I'd created it for her, solely for her.
The child imagination is a marvelous and curious thing.
Gifts in subsequent years led to small books illustrated with shapes cut from discontinued wallpaper samples (a generous woman at a local home decorating store gave me sample books she could no longer use); an organizer for pens, pencils and paper made from an empty gift box for clothing; and eventually, in my teen years, a wooden phone table fully equipped with a handy-dandy storage drawer beneath, handmade and varnished in shop class.
Only a few days ago, a kind neighbor gave our oldest daughter a grocery bag filled with tablets, colors, glue, construction paper, paper clips, and a host of other crafty items she had cleaned from her house, for which she would have no use. An idea has arisen...
Perhaps this Father's Day, we can design dad a very special card - one made of construction paper hearts and doo-dads collected from this bag and our own home, glued together to create letters and pictures. A card only Alex could make, given on behalf of she and her sister, to show their dad just how much he is loved.
Perhaps that will be the perfect gift!