A story about a boomerang

It’s Valentine’s Day here in New Zealand, and I want to tell this story about a boomerang.

About 15 years ago, back when I was a newly minted 21 year old, I went on holiday with my wife to Sydney, Australia. We did the usual tourist stuff, theme parks, swimming, stuffing our faces. We also did a bit of shopping.

As a gag we each took five dollars and went off to find a small gift for the other. She came back with a little blue oil burner and some essential oil and I came back with possibly the worst gift ever given to anyone in good faith.

It was a boomerang.

I should mention it is not this boomerang. We know where it is, but getting to it is another matter. Love is one thing, getting the back of that particular closet is quite another.


It was not a quality boomerang. It was a boomerang that, at five whole dollars, was grossly overpriced. She HATED it. Not in an angry way, but in a ‘gently tease you about for the next fifteen years and get a good laugh out of it every time’ kind of way.

But here’s the thing: she kept it. For fifteen years. And for all that time she has resisted any and all attempts to throw it away.

Love is keeping the boomerang.




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