And if you want something specific, let me know. Maybe a favorite Christmas cookie?

~ Autumn

From: lukasspencer

To: autumnthefallqueen

Hi, Autumn,

The most important thing about exercise is consistency. Whatever you do, do it regularly.

To be honest, I haven’t received a care package ever, so… if you want to send me one, I’m not going to refuse.

I’ve got no special requests or a favorite cookie. Whatever you send should be good.

- Lukas

When I received the email from Autumn around a month back, I didn’t expect to receive this huge box.

But sitting on my bed is a green cardboard box with a design of red-and-white candy canes all over it. The brown shipping paper I just unwrapped lies on its side.

My hands fucking shake as I carefully remove the clear tape she used to close the lid. For a second, I just look at the colorful assortment clearly arranged with great care and attention. My heart hammers when I grab the letter she’s slipped to the side.

Her handwritten words in black ink on pink pastel paper look so different than her emails.

This feels personal.

Dear Lukas,

I really hope you enjoy your FIRST EVER care package. I can’t believe I’m the one sending you this.

I browsed a lot through Pinterest and other websites, and I’ve tried to include a bit of everything they suggested to send your spouse, boyfriend, or brother.

I’m sorry if I went a bit overboard, but this is my FIRST EVER care package too. :)

Happy Holidays, Lukas!

From,

Your Family.

I read her letter once again.

How did she manage to rock my heart with so few words?

My fingers glide over the word “family.” The flowing Y and the heart over the I.

Now I understand why my friends get so emotional opening their care packages.

I put the letter aside and pick up a glass jar. It’s also Christmas themed, with white-painted snow dots, reindeer, and candy canes littered all around. When I open the mason jar, the smell of coconut and sugar hit my nose. Under the jar is a small golden butterfly with www.thebutterflyinn.com written in tiny black letters.

I take a bite of the cookie, and it melts in my mouth.

After closing the lid, I carefully pick up one item after another. Dried oranges. Dark chocolates. Crunchy peanut butter. Caramel candies. Beef jerky. And then my heart stops at the clear packets—which, of course, are handmade. Six pouches full of white chocolate, with a red bow tied to each.

Did she really do this for me?

A man who’s almost a stranger?

Under the snacks are small self-care pouches in Christmas-themed envelopes.

Sanitizer. Hand cream. Spa lotions.

One after the other, they land on my bed as I empty the envelopes, until…

My eyes must be playing tricks on me. This can’t be fucking right.