I'm Right Where You Left Me

I’m seven years old, and I’m riding a merry-go-round. Lights and colors are flashing in my eyes, Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer is playing in my ears, and I look over at my mom on the cartoon horse next to me, and she’s laughing. This is the last good memory I have of my mom. Because after she took me to the South Coast Plaza that day, her illness got worse. My memories after that are of people in gowns, machine beeps, and the distinct smell of the hospital. I knew the smell well because my mom had been a nurse, and whenever she came home from work, the smell clung to her like I used to.

When I turned 16, my dad gave me a present and said my mom had told him to give it to me on my 16th birthday. I put off opening that gift for at least three weeks. It made me excited but it also made me anxious. The thought of having something new from my mom but also the thought of it being the last thing I’d ever have from her....I didn’t like the feeling. And when I finally did open it, I’ll admit that I was disappointed. Because inside was a small black notebook, and at first, I thought it must’ve been her journal, but the pages were all blank. There was nothing special about it...it was just a small black notebook and that was it. I was disappointed, and I was also angry. I thought I was going to learn more about my mom, but instead she had given me this seemingly insignificant gift, and I had no idea why. I put it in the back right corner of the highest shelf in my closet, and I tried to forget about it. I was sixteen, and I wanted to hang out with my friends. I didn’t want to think about my dead mom and her weird, meaningless message from beyond the grave.

Last year, I graduated college, and I landed a job as a financial advisor for one of my state’s corporate banks. The position was not my dream but it did mean freedom. I could finally move out of my dad and his new wife’s house. I felt like they needed a fresh start, and so did I. While packing up my childhood room, I thought about how I used to do homework in my bed, and I used to talk on the phone with my boyfriend, and I used to binge watch Desperate Housewives after the whole house was asleep. A room is just a room, but it’s unsettling to think you could just forget the things that once made you happy inside of it.

I started to empty out my closet and that’s when I found the box with the small black notebook inside. I pulled it out and looked at it, with its smooth leather cover and rounded edges. What were you thinking, mom? Why would this be a special gift for me? I hated to sound ungrateful, even in my thoughts, but I just didn’t get it. Still, I was no longer upset by the notebook, so I put it in my purse, and decided that I could use it for scratch paper for lists, like groceries or books I’d like to read. Maybe it would be like my mom was always with me, helping me out with my daily life.

Six months into my new job, I felt burnt out and disillusioned. I was tired, and I looked it. The morning had gone by too slowly, and my coffee was cold and unfinished. I was watching the clock and hearing the second hand tick. I was waiting for my two o’clock appointment with a couple who needed help planning for retirement. I started thinking about what I needed to do after work, so I grabbed my notebook to scrawl out a quick to-do list: stop at bank, pick up dog food, drop off mail. Suddenly, the phone on my desk rang, and Shannon the teller let me know that my appointment had arrived early. The couple came into my office holding several folders filled with records, and I felt glad that I’d actually have something to do. As the woman was sitting down opposite to me, she pointed to my notebook on the side of my desk and exclaimed “I used to have a notebook just like that! I bought it because It had a hidden zipper pocket at the back, and I thought it would be nice to keep some photos of my son inside.”

I stared at her for a second longer than what would be perceived as normal before I politely mumbled something in response. Did my notebook have a secret pocket too? I tried not to hurry through the appointment, but I snatched up my notebook while the door to my office was still closing behind them. I flipped to the back and felt around. Sure enough, under the inside back cover, was a zipper. At that moment, I was terrified. With how exhausted I was, I knew that if the pocket was empty, I was going to cry. No matter how long someone’s been gone, grief does have its way of sticking around.

When I unzipped the pocket and reached inside, I was shocked to actually feel something. My heart started racing, and I pulled out what felt like a small piece of plastic and an even smaller piece of paper. I put my glasses on and held the paper up to my face. In my mom’s handwriting, it read, “For a rainy day.” I looked down at the plastic piece in my palm, and I gasped. It was a casino chip from The Golden Nugget, and right in the center, it said “$20,000.”

Just an hour ago, I had been watching the clock, and now it was like my life’s greatest mystery had been solved. Of course, now I had way more unanswered questions, like why didn’t my mom cash out the chip? And why did she hide it in the notebook instead of just wrapping it up by itself? And did she give me a Vegas chip at 16 years old, knowing I’d have to wait until 21 to use it? I knew I’d never know the answers to these questions, but I did know one thing. I was going to Las Vegas. I made the arrangements and two days later, I checked in to The Golden Nugget.

I’m 24 now, and all I know of my mom is she loved to help people, she made people laugh, and she wasn’t afraid to take risks. But me, I've always been too nervous to take risks. I've always been a careful planner who worried that something bad would happen if I didn't prepare for it. But now I can't stop thinking about how my mom was a woman who never used a $20,000 chip, and then she gave it to her daughter and basically said to use it when she gets bored. Finding my mom's chip made me seriously ask myself what it would be like if I allowed myself to live in the moment more without worrying about the consequences. It made me want to try to live my life like she did because you never know how long or how short life is going to be. Maybe this trip would be a good time to practice.

I was walking around the elaborate hotel casino with its fancy restaurants, blue aquariums, and women in high heels when I noticed there wasn’t anyone at the roulette table. Maybe this was my sign, I thought, so I walked over to the table and without thinking about it, I handed the dealer my mom’s chip. He raised his eyebrows a little, but he said “What’s your bet, miss?” I thought for a second. If I was crazy enough to bet all the money, I should at least make an informed decision. I asked him, “What’s the best bet? I mean, what number comes up the most?”

“Well, a lot of people choose to bet on either red or black rather than a specific number,” he told me. I thought of the small black notebook, and I smiled.

“Put it all on black,” I said. So the dealer set the chip on the black diamond, and he spun the wheel.