On your doorstep lies a large box, carefully wrapped with a ribbon on top. There is neatly chopped firewood at the bottom, and above you would find a red knitted sweater with a matching scarf and hat inside a smaller bag. There is a large knitted dragon symbol at the front, with the words *~PAPA’S PRIDE AND JOY*~ at the back.
There is a note attached.
I’ve long wanted to make these for you, in truth. Yet neither time nor opportunity would grant me the pleasure of doing so. How ironic it is that such an opportunity would present itself now, even in the midst of our circumstances in this strange city.
I’ve been thinking on your words, and your reasons before stated. I know that I am not, and can never be the man you once called ‘Father’. So it seems I’ve no right to ask that you call me as such, but I must admit there will always exist a part of me that wishes you would.
Seeing the man you’ve grown to be, I cannot help but feel a great sense of pride, though perhaps I do not have the right of it. At least you would do well to understand that your father would have been overjoyed to see you as you are, just as I am.
May this season’s festivities grant you much happiness as it does the others. Say hello to Minervykins for me, will you? But perhaps I’ll see the both of you soon.
P.S. I trust the firewood will keep you warm.
Of course a brow is raised when he opens the gifts to find the words stitched into the sweater, no doubt handmade. He wasn't a child anymore, but despite how embarrassing it was, even he is unable to hide the smile completely. The firewood may seem like a strange present to some, but it was practical, something he could actually use. And considering how lacklustre his accommodation was he would need it, especially in this colder weather. All that would have been more than enough, he needn't even go this far, yet the note that accompanies the gifts is what causes his facade to break, even just a little.
It takes immense willpower to cease any tears that threatened to fall, yet his mask cannot withhold the evident emotion upon reading the letter. To know the man he admired the most was glad for him as he was, despite all his failures and harsh exterior he still regarded him as such. He was still proud. He still thinks he deserved a better son, someone who could express that appreciation, yet reading these words, perhaps he need not for his father to understand. It didn't heal old wounds, it didn't make the hurt go away completely, but it was a step in the right direction, and there could be no greater gift.