Hector and Gallia
On Hector’s 55th birthday, in the evening, he sent out an invitation to a little impromptu coffee-and-cakes gathering at his place. “Waffles and other assorted goodies on the table here, for those who happen to drift in. Won’t be miffed at those who aren’t up for it. Welcome!”
Gallia received the message somewhat late, grabbed a bottle of red wine from her rack, decorated it with a package ornament, and set off.
Hector received Gallia with great cheer and kissed her and hugged her, and accepted the bottle with amicable reproach, admonishing her that gifts were wholly unnecessary and that she shouldn’t have.
Smiling brightly, he announced Gallia’s arrival to the other guests, noting with delight that of all his nieces and nephews, only Gallia had signalled her remembrance of his birthday with a message that morning … and therefore, only Gallia had been invited to the party that evening.
Hector beamed with joy for his niece having passed his subtle test, proving herself worthy of his hospitality that night. To an over-eager interpreter, his appreciation of her observance might even have seemed amplified by the others’ forgetfulness.
After all, if not for such simple but clever benchmarks, how might Hector possibly know for certain who really loves him and respects him? And thus whom he should love and respect the most?
And his love and respect was amply and sincerely bestowed on his guests. The waffles and other delicacies were exquisite; everyone present was well served by Hector’s impeccable hospitality. His good spirits were evident, and genuine.
Hector went to sleep that night satisfied by the success of his experiment, and by his renewed assurance of Gallia’s superior love and respect.
And Gallia went to sleep with a furrowed brow, deep in thought, about the appreciation of friends, about the significance of displayed tokens of caring, and about the value of Microsoft Outlook’s automatic birthday reminders.