Gifts

I need an angel,one who figures out how many books fit in a carton before the bottom of the carton bulges and possibly releases its load of books onto whatever surface is below and I need to know how to pack the China cup my mother bought from a man who insisted it was true fine porcelain painted with flowers one saw in the royal garden although he never told us what garden and then my glass Mickey Mouse bank must arrive in pristine condition because it was a gift from my father the last day he drove his light tan car when he was tired and still fighting the cancer that invaded his lungs even though he never smoked or even tried a cigaret because he found the aroma distasteful and on that last day of driving he told me that he wanted to buy me a gift but couldn't drive further than the  all purpose supermarket where you could buy an assortment of knick knacks for every taste but mostly aimed at folks who liked kitsch which I wasn't fond of but when I looked at how worn out my father looked I quickly scanned the first shelf and spotted a glass Micky Mouse bank, picked it up and said I've made my choice and actually it reminded me of a large plastic pig bank I owned and my grandmother supported with money right after her social security check arrived and if my father was surprised by my choice the only thing he said when we stood on the checkout line was "Here you take the keys, I can't drive anymore."