Today is always a strange day on my calendar. 15 years ago I got on a plane to Australia expecting to never come back. 10 years ago I was sat at Coventry airport heading over to Amsterdam and would meet the woman for the first time who would become my wife.
Today however I gifted probably my most prized possession to someone. I have been known to buy copies of The Little Prince for people. Today, I gave mine to someone else. Not a copy. Mine. It’s been with me since about 2000 and without it, I know with utter conviction that none of what’s come since would have happened. I have leaned on it in my darkest times, carried it with me in some of my best, and taken strength and inspiration from its wisdoms since the day I first read it. It’s value to me has been unquantifiable. If a person could have a book as a best friend, then this would be mine.
And now it’s someone else’s.
If they take nothing from it, it’s fine. They’re not me. If it sits unread for years, that’s OK too. This was an expression of thanks, of love and affection, and an acknowledgement of what they’ve come to mean to me. But if it has even a 10th of the impact which it’s had upon me.. that will be enough for them to look back in years to come and remember today. And smile. And perhaps, just perhaps, they will have stars that will laugh for them, and they’ll think of me.