bookends raze what do you get for the man who's given you six sculptures of monkeys over a period of three months, leaving each one in a different part of the park on a different day, making all six of those days better just by being who he is? we would have found the perfect gift at art_expressions. i'm sure of it. but that place doesn't exist anymore. we don't know what music he likes. we don't know what books he reads. we don't know what he dreams about at night. he's a beautiful mystery. a few days ago, a man my dad helped with his comp claim gave him this massive gift basket. an early christmas present. it was full of rolled wafers stuffed with chocolate hazelnut cream, chocolate covered almonds, sour raspberries, peanut brittle, double chocolate hot cocoa, kettle corn, chocolate covered bavarian pretzels, and more. all of it held in place by the cargo bed of a gold sleigh. we would die trying to get to the bottom of all that treasure. it was too much. i don't like the idea of regifting things. but when my dad came home with that monstrosity in his arms, we looked at each other and said, "sybren." something about it felt right. we dropped it off yesterday before our walk. sybren came to the door dressed in red. he was so surprised he looked wounded. he saw who we were, saw what we had for him, and then he said: "oh, get out!" he stepped onto the porch. "we had to get you back," i said. he looked like he was going to cry. "how did you find me?" he asked. "when you told us your first name," i said, "i looked you up on the internet and found the house that seemed most likely to be yours." "hold on a minute," he said. "i was coming to see you today. i've got one more." we came to give him a gift on a day when he was going to leave another gift of his own in the park for us. through the front door, i saw a teddy bear sitting on a wicker chair. he had curly blonde hair. he was giving me a dirty look. sybren stepped back inside. he turned around, smiled, and said, "i also collect bears." then he disappeared. when he came back, i said, "that's pretty poetic. in the card i wrote for you, the first thing i mentioned was bears. did you know your name means 'victorious bear' in norwegian?" his face told me he didn't know that. he started tearing up again. he handed me two sculptures. these ones were heavy bookends. two identical monkeys sat with their legs crossed, each one reading a book, with a larger hardcover book beneath them and a second book at their backs. those books formed a chair with an unbreakable hinge. one monkey sat on books that were brown and gold. the other sat on books that were green. they were delighted by what they saw. but the monkey that sat on the green books was turned to the side. his smile seemed deeper somehow. i started laughing. "you have no idea how perfect this is," i said. "if you knew the amount of books i have..." "oh, i've got books too," sybren said, hinting at future gifts. he thanked us. we thanked him. "you enjoy the day," he said, "and have a great christmas." it took me until today to notice that there are no words inked on the pages of the books these simian bibliophiles hold in their hands. they're reading the stories of their lives, and there's so much still to be written. they're both only halfway through. 211224 what's it to you? who go blather from