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I do not own anything about The Mentalist. No copyright infringement is intended, and thank you Mr. Heller, for letting me play with your lovely characters.

AN: So it's Christmas Eve and I got to thinking about gifts and one thing led to another. You can call this a poem or a drabble or a very short one shot. Whatever. I'm not into labels – just experimenting. Constructive criticism is welcomed – seriously - I'd love to know if it works for you or not.

(the title is taken from a old Shaker song - the Alison Krauss/Yo Yo Ma version is simply gorgeous) "Tis the gift to be free."

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My father said there was

No such thing as a gift.

A smokescreen to blind a mark

A token assuming and requiring payback

Or an attempt at easing a guilty conscience

(he himself was incapable of guilt – oh the irony)

"No such thing as a gift, Paddy."

Of that he was certain.

When he was drunk he would boast

That his gift to me was the knowledge

That no one could be trusted.

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Angela didn't buy me gifts

She insisted that I bought too much "stuff"

All by myself

Then she gave me Charlotte.

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The truth is, I love giving gifts.

Seeing the recipient's face light up with

Wonder and delight

Sure, I enjoy that I put it there

That I got it right

But my pleasure in their happiness is genuine.

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It's dawn and Teresa is in the shower.

I imagine the rivulets of warm water

Gliding down her silken skin

Over places that yielded to my hands just this morning.

We are running late.

I lay my suit and shirt out on the bed and walk

To the dresser drawer she has allotted me

(I wake here often as not these days)

I pull it open and see

Beside my stack of underwear

Several pairs of socks, neatly ordered.

Black, blue, gray.

I feel that my heart will burst with happiness.

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She steps out of the bathroom

Toweling her hair.

"You can go ahead and shower while I dry my hair."

But I am rooted to the spot, staring into my drawer.

She notices.

"Oh yeah, I picked you up some more socks."

She explains it nonchalantly

As if her gift is hardly worth mentioning.

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My father was wrong about everything.

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AN/PS: Gotta let this one go before I chicken out. I hope everyone has a lovely holiday, whatever you celebrate. Just celebrate!