It was a curious e-mail, though less so for my friends and me. We are ritualists of the highest order, and my friend is a true mistress of ceremony. It turns out that in just a few days she will be coming of age. She will be turning 40.

Most may think that 40 is a bit late for coming of age, but I have witnessed many women reach their full force during this special decade. There is no power greater than a woman who is her own person. It is awe-inspiring. Men have their own coming of age, and if I could be a bit judgmental, I would argue that it occurs a bit later and is somewhat less momentous. I suspect this is a result of the unwarranted privilege men enjoy in our society from their early youth, but that is for a social-work class or perhaps a women's studies seminar and a handful of rebellious students.

The e-mail noted that in lieu of gifts, she encouraged her friends to bring a picture, poem, favorite song or some other memento to commemorate the event. Again, this is appropriate to her quest and reflective of a rich soul.

I actually have many pictures of my friend, but they are shots that she took and turned into wonderful collages for my family and me. In fact, when my wife turned 40, my friend was the unofficial photographer. She gathered the photos, matted the shots herself and then framed the result. It is now hanging in our hallway next to the photos of my daughter as she aged through her first year of life.

I could burn a CD for her. She has always wanted a CD of ephemeral female vocalists. I could include Loreena McKennitt, Sarah McLachlan and Tori Amos, to name just a few. But truth be told, she has been there, done that. Even as I am writing this, I am listening to a CD she burned for me two years ago.

Maybe I could write a poem. While I must admit that I am a fan of the iambic verse, my poems tend to be personal — and a bit disturbing, as poems often are — and written for my eyes only. I could "steal" a verse from another poet; maybe Frost, Whitman, Browning, or even "Billy" Shakespeare.

No, I could not do that. I have a hard enough time buying Hallmark cards. It has to come from me.

Perhaps I could just tell her how I feel about her. I could tell her that to me friendship is all about giving and that over the years she has given my family and me more than we could ever return. She was our hotel when our house was being tented, the dog sitter when our home was on the market, and our confidant when our world collapsed and cancer was fended off.

I could tell her that as the wife of my best friend, she too has become a best friend and that our world would not be complete without her and her lovely family. In fact, I should let her know that she is more than a friend, she is part of the family whether she likes it or not. I am not sure if this is a gift or a curse, but it is the truth and it is the best I have to give.

Michael C. DeMattos is on the faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.