A few days ago I received a package in the mail from my aunt and uncle (the most beautiful people in the world) for my twenty-first birthday. It was filled to the brim with sentimental treasures - a Japan-inspired letter opener, a garnet brooch from Angelica's grandparents, a colorful wooden box from Bill's time spent in Moscow - all tucked into a Taj Mahal box that Angelica acquired while traveling around India.
Bill and Angelica live in fairy-tale cottage in a village outside New York City (where they spend copious amounts of time in their garden, Angelica writes the sweetest children books about snowmen, and Bill walks to work at Westpoint where he helps put on performances and philosophizes with cadets) and they are my heroes.
(It's hard to do justice to the things you care about the most. I love them a lot and their package meant the world to me.)