On my birthday this year
my family call over,
each one bearing gifts
and gushing with birthday wishes.
I am handed the gifts in turn,
all beautifully wrapped,
tagged and bowed.
I accept the offered presents
with a you really shouldn\'t have look.
My uncle buys me a bottle
of fancy American liquor,
I nod and thank him,
feigning delight,
while thinking,
I prefer Scottish and Irish whiskey,
and am not a fan of Kentucky bourbon.
My sister buys me a CD by the Who,
she\'s bought me their albums several times
over the years, it\'s become as much
a tradition as getting socks for Christmas.
I don\'t recall ever telling her
I like the band.
I force a polite smile on my face
and enthuse about
how each gift is just perfect
how I love it.
How did you know?
I ask, while thinking,
do you not know
me at all?
When the family have left
and I have washed out
the mugs and glasses,
I turn to the random pile
of presents.
I pour out a measure of
the American bourbon
and put the CD in the player.
As the rock band kick in
I sniff the liquor with suspicion.
The Who album
turns out to be a classic
live LP of the band in their prime.
I sip the bourbon warily
and as it wonderfully burns my throat,
I can\'t help thinking,
how have I never tried this before?
When my family were leaving
the gifts had seemed
perfect presents
for somebody else,
it was only afterwards
that it dawned on me,
they know me better
than I know myself.