A Balding Jewish Man’s Gift
What is it?
“A fucking bomb, now open it before I take it back.” His name was Jeff, and he was the most vulgar SAT teacher I’d ever met.
How come I’m getting a present and no one else is?
“Because I like you the most.” The most honest too.
I began carefully tearing the brown paper bag gift wrap, wondering what it could have possibly been. A tore through finally revealed a black book. I flipped through its blank pages.
A sketchbook?
“Is it? Oh shit, I meant to get you a journal. Well, just pretend it’s a journal, just without the lines. I want you to write Mae, write everyday of your life. You have the most potential out of anyone here to make something of yourself.”
I nodded in agreement and began to cry. It was the day I became a writer.
“A fucking bomb, now open it before I take it back.” His name was Jeff, and he was the most vulgar SAT teacher I’d ever met.
How come I’m getting a present and no one else is?
“Because I like you the most.” The most honest too.
I began carefully tearing the brown paper bag gift wrap, wondering what it could have possibly been. A tore through finally revealed a black book. I flipped through its blank pages.
A sketchbook?
“Is it? Oh shit, I meant to get you a journal. Well, just pretend it’s a journal, just without the lines. I want you to write Mae, write everyday of your life. You have the most potential out of anyone here to make something of yourself.”
I nodded in agreement and began to cry. It was the day I became a writer.