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I have never thrown a gift wrap away. Never. Watching me unwrap a present is just as excruciating as watching an eye surgery: “Slowly lifting the cornea and inserting a microcatheter..”. Everyone around me screaming and shouting, “Come on now, it’s just paper.”  And then like a king’s ceremonious robe folding ritual, I press the glitter and pack it away for a future unfolding.

Paper has never been just-paper to me. I have tried to wrap (pun totally intended) my head around my obsession with paper. What is it that draws me to it, revering it, wanting to save it, preserving it so much? Perhaps when surrounded by massive amounts of digitization nothing feels so real like holding a book, looking at a painting, rummaging through old photos.

At the moment though, my search for gift wrapping paper is of utmost importance. This year I am running short. How much paper do you need to cover four LEGO boxes averaging 3ft x 2ft x 4in in dimensions? A lot. And I have regifted all of my preserved gift wrap.

This is what I found. Saris left behind by the visiting mothers in my life. These soft, glamorously weaved yarns have seen many a glorious days as *playmats,

*receiving blankets,

*drool catchers,

*spitup cleaners and now ……

Gift wrappers! Six meters in length, they can cover all the loot and Santa himself.

I look at these beautiful pieces (sigh).. and wonder how some of my very best presents are those that come unwrapped. Eighty three birthday wishes on Facebook, twenty nine from people I have never met, an unexpected wild apple tree on the way to the park, a gray-gold sunset…..

Below: Paper in their Second Acts.

Child's art turned into an ornament.

Sundry holders.

The only thing good about the cereal box is the box.

Calendar gloss staying long after their year.

Brown cardboard boxes wrapped up with cards (to the tune of "These are few of my favorite things")

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