Whatever Kind of Day it is

I wasn’t expecting a visitor.

I open the door to find my youngest Olivia with an overflowing shopping bag and a small parcel in her arms.

My brothers always wrinkled their noses at our naming Olivia after Oliver. But after four girls, we decided a boy was simply not in the cards. Olivia is after all a beautiful name, and she’s the spitting image of her father. Wild curls, deep brown eyes that crinkle at the edges, and a posture that commands a room. Like her father, she feels things, considers actions and reactions from a deeply human perspective that not everyone can. She is intensely thoughtful, with an endless optimism I’ve always admired.

But today.

The sight of her! She is haggard.

“Olivia! Come in! Let me make you a cup of tea. Do you need to lie down? You look… tired.”

Overt honesty is a quality of mine. Whether it’s a good one or not depends on which of my children you ask.

She smiles, almost coyly.

Her laugh lines!

Did she have those before?

A goal in life should be to have deep laugh lines. But she is so young!

I usher her into the kitchen.

“Mother,” she says. So formal!

“I’m going to the farmers market later, maybe pick up some flowers. Any requests?” She pauses. “I want you to have whatever you fancy for your birthday.”

Instinctively I bite the edge of my thumb nail, a bad habit when I concentrate. Have I really done it again?

I glance out the kitchen window. The rose bushes have taken off! We must have had more rain than I thought. Their full blooms let me know it must indeed be June.

“Olivia I entirely forgot. Do not tell your father. I won’t hear the end of it.”

She takes my hand in hers and looks at me, adoringly. Her nails are so neat. She hasn’t been biting them!

“You’re funny today Mum," she says as she pulls a thin book, and a small silver pen out of her handbag and sets them on the table.

"Can I leave this with you?”

“Of course darling. Do you want me to keep it here for you?”

“I’d like you to read it. Then we can decide together.”

“Decide what?”

“I’ll put the kettle back on” she says, and gives my hand a little pat.

I pull the book towards me and sit down at the table. The black leather book is well loved, softened and lightened to a heather grey around the edges.

I lift the cover and realize it’s a notebook.

Oliver’s blocky letters practically leap from the first page.

My Dearest Laurel,

Time has an elastic quality. Some days, hours stretch on and on, like long naps in the sun. Others hours are fleeting, arriving and ending so quickly in succession it feels as though we must sit down to stop time rushing by!

Some moments pass so quickly that our memories lose them.

Some moments stand still. They feel like yesterday, but in reality were many years ago.

We can only ask to enjoy time, to spend it wisely.

We have lived an extraordinary life to date.

We’ve been blessed with our girls, our home, and countless memories of exploring the world and laughing together. I’ve loved you everyday with my entire heart. We’ve been blessed with successes that have kept our family healthy and warm.

Now, today is special.

I’ve given you 20 years of gifts to give - to share our happiness with those who need hope.

Each year you may give a gift to do some good, and bring some joy to that day - whatever kind of day it is.

All my love,

Oliver

There’s a tea stain at the bottom of the page. Just a small splatter from a wayward splash.

I trace my finger over it, and feel as though I’m breathing in too much.

I feel too full. I exhale.

“Mum?” Olivia says, taking a seat, and scooping up my left hand.

I straighten in my chair and turn the page, carefully avoiding the tea marks.

The list begins in 2010.

2010 - $20k: $1,000 to Make-A-Wish, Arizona

2011 - $19k: $1,000 to Cancer Research Society, Montreal

2012 -$18k: $1,000 to Battersea Dogs & Cats Home, London

In 2016 My messy scrawl takes over.

2016 -$14k: $1,000 to United We Dream, Washington D.C.

I notice these dates stretch into the future.

2019- $11k: $1,000 to Black Girls Code, San Francisco

2020- $10k: $1,000 to COVID-19 Research Response Fund, Oxford

I’m not familiar with each of these words.

Eventually, Olivia’s small, neat writing replaces mine.

2021 -$9k :

“What do you think?” Olivia asks. Her eyes don’t match the question. Her eyes are intense. Expectant and worried despite her soft smile. She squeezes my hand and traces my knuckles with her index finger.

I close my eyes and drift into a memory of Oliver’s deep laugh and warm hands. The twinkle in his eye when he watched our girls, and the magic of him putting his mind to something.

Time contracts.

I chuckle at the memory of him spilling his tea all over the table the year Roy lept off his lap without warning.

I insisted on Battersea that year.

I open my eyes to an amused looking Olivia.

“Mum?”

“Your father would be proud this year.” I say. I didn’t want to before.

I lift the pen and write next to Olivia’s small neat numbers.

2021 -$9k : $1,000 to Alzheimer's Research UK, Cambridge