Are you a master Christmas wrapping paper wrapper? I mean one of the chosen, touched by the Hallmark elves to brighten the days for onlookers of presents under the tree.
The same mystical person who creates unabashed jealousy among the masses of wrapping misfits and irritation within the ranks of those who regret tearing such immaculate beauty. You know who you are and who you are not, and I am in the latter category.
Give me a present to wrap and paper, and I see nothing but shapes needing to be joined.
Hand me a pair of scissors and tape and promptly leave the room to avoid the paper shrapnel. Rip, cut, a little tear, uneven connections, mismatched tape, crooked cuts.
These are all evidence of my failings, my lack of talent, my inability to see clearly and understand the art of wrapping a Christmas present. I’m part of the shamed masses who know not the meaning of paper architecture, creating a tightly designed and unbreakable skin of glistening joy shrouding the inner heartbeat of unselfishness. Yes, a wrapped Instapot is the inner heartbeat of unselfishness.
Well, my wife is a member of the Illuminati clan of the perfectionist few, the gifted beings who spread cheer to the rest of us.
We can only admire her movements, imagine what might have been, and ponder the “what ifs” in the season of giving.
My wife leaves no trace of unused paper. All seams are perfectly crisp and matching.
Special thick Scotch tape slithers around its bounded prey, as though it knows the ideal approach to seal the holiday deal. No ripples, ruffles, or wrongs.
Wrongs, I say? Indeed.
The elite wrappers profess there is a right approach and wrong technique to the prestigious form of the ancient practice called kirigami, the cousin to origami with the added touch of cutting.
Only a select inner circle know the hand paper jujitsu secrets handed down thousands of years, untouched by modernity and glistening through the generations. The ritual is so classified and mysterious that the Scottish Freemasons are not privy to the inner sanctum.
How do you know if you’ve encountered a Christmas Wrappermason? You never will unless you marry into their folk, and only then are you told nothing more than your spouse has been showered with elf dust.
So, for the rest of us. Hack away. Just remember that when you hand your imperfections over to loved ones, somewhere out there walk the Knights of the Christmas Wrapping Table.
Clark Hicks is a lawyer who lives in Hattiesburg. His e-mail is clark@hicksattorneys.com
