The gift of joy

Another year had passed since that fated day. Had it really been a year already? It was no joke when people said, “as you get older, the days seem to drag but the years fly by.” As she pulled herself out of bed, throwing the faded quilt to the other side and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she was feeling an equal mix of happiness and trepidation. Would the day bring celebration or unwelcome surprises?

As a child Laura recalled this day with fondness as all children do. And as every adult learns in their own time, the day brings mixed emotions. It can feel like a meeting for the grieving. Denial of the aging process, then mixing a few stages together in the middle including depression that one can’t slow it down and desperately trying to cover it up, and then finally acceptance.

That would be enough to take the fondness out of birthdays, but hers also happened to fall on a holiday each year, and not one she was particularly fond of, April Fools’ Day. Pranks and birthdays didn’t go together, and anyone who has a birthday on a holiday knows, you can easily be forgotten as the holiday trumps the birthday.

Her mother never forgot.

Grabbing the blue-tinted glass Ball jar on her desk, Laura unpeeled one folded paper at a time, laying them neatly across the surface. It had been a tradition on her birthday for the last four years, and as much as she was not looking forward to another overlooked birthday, the stuffed jar made her heart feel full realizing there was so much to be thankful for. Each paper held a note archiving moments of joy throughout the year. A remembrance and renewal of sorts, and certainly she needed that.

The notes began after the separation and then ugly divorce. When she could not get the foul thoughts to fade and each day was an exercise in trying to find the silver lining in her life, she realized she needed to see a therapist. It hurt, as she had always been a strong person who could compartmentalize most problems and solve them on her own. Laura felt weak asking for help, and that little voice inside her head told her once again that she wasn’t good enough. Her ex had helped groom that low self-esteem. He had a knack for recognizing her failures and bringing them to her attention. As if she didn’t already know them. “You’re too needy,” he told her. Being alone now was a recipe for disaster. After he left, she had too much time on her hands to groom negative thoughts and consider her possible vengeance.

The therapist had suggested focusing on the positive by writing down her moments of joy so as to overshadow the moments of doubt and loneliness and, if she was being honest, pure hatred. Little slips of peach colored cut paper littered the bottom of her purse as well as her coat pockets and desk at work. She kept them handy, so as a moment of joy came she didn’t forget to remember it. These little slips of paper all circled back to this day, reminding her she was born for a reason, she was important, that she was loved and that her life had value, with or without that asshole.

She would celebrate today, whether others remembered or not, but first, she had to complete the circle. The good that had happened to her this year, she would give back to others.

“Quiet day at the beach, reading a great novel and soaking up the sun.” “Lunch with Kelli at our favorite coffee shop on the lake.” “Downloaded my favorite song country song and played it over and over.” “Fresh clean sheets on a spring night with the window open and crickets chirping.” “Having mom and dad for dinner and dad enjoying the apple pie I made.” These were just a snapshot of all memories on paper. She could write another now, “Reading how much joy I had this year!” She was glad once again that she had written them down as there were so many she didn’t remember until she read them.

Laura smiled with delight narrowed down three that she would choose, plus 1. Through experience and time, she had learned that doing for others brought joy and helped a person forget their own troubles. It was her birthday, and she would celebrate by performing random acts of kindness for others.

She wrote notes on post its, “Share a book you have on the shelf with someone who might enjoy it as much as you did.” “Buy a gift card for someone at the coffee shop.” “Make a pie and share with someone.” She was saving the bonus one for later.

The chirping phone made her pause. “1 new message.” Typing her passcode, she smiled, someone was thinking about her. “Where are you? You’re late for the 8:00am meeting?” Oh crap, she thought and tried to recall what meeting she was missing and jumping up from her chair to throw some clothes on. Another chirp. She glanced at her screen. “Just kidding! April Fools’!”

Hope was fleeting, but she was determined to make the best of this day. She deserved it. Step 1: turn off your phone.

Perusing her bookshelf, she plucked out one of her all-time favorites. Reading this book was like diving into the deep blue sky at night, no sound around you, just words in your head. The Milky Way like a poured glass of champagne. Beauty and awe beyond words. This was the one to share and she knew just the person. Gold and dark blue striped paper completed the wrapped gift.

An hour later as she was placing the mackintosh apple and scratch crust pie in the oven, her door buzzer sounded. “Hello?” she chirped into the box. “Happy Birthday, honey!” her mother sang. She brought a yellow cake with chocolate frosting she’d made at home. Her mouth watered thinking of pastries her mother created, and the gift she had passed on to her. They both loved the art of baking, but also the art of creating beauty in food and the joy of watching others savor their creations.

She had never told her mother about her birthday secret. Laura was not looking for glory or recognition. She only knew how much it meant when someone thought of you out of the blue. She didn’t even like that the recipients of her gifts knew they were from her, she would rather they be random, but she wasn’t sure someone would eat a pie from a random stranger.

When the timer buzzed an hour later, her mother hopped from the couch to go and bade her a wonderful day. Never one to overstay her welcome and recognizing she probably had plans.

Joel was behind the counter, her coffee shop mixologist, when she arrived for her mocha and butter croissant. She was taken back when he leaned over to hand her the change and gift card. “Happy birthday, Laura,” he half whispered to her. “The croissant is on the house.” She didn’t try to figure it out how he knew, she just smiled as she shook her head and thanked him.

There were things she kept to herself and her birthday had been one of them. Then why was she upset when people didn’t remember her birthday? She’d have to talk to her therapist about this. As she exited the coffee shop, she wondered what her therapist would say about this. She also wondered, but she’d never tell her, what she would think about her birthday surprise for her ex.

The pie was gratefully received by her friend Hope, who had a small gift for her also. Laura accepted it, but said, “you didn’t have to.” “Of course I did!” Hope replied. “What would I do without my venting buddy?” Laura felt the same way, as Hope had always been there for her, even in the darkest of times, and the ugliest of thoughts.

The gift card was tucked into a greeting card and Laura quietly rapped on the door of her cousin’s house. With a new baby at home, she never knew when it was nap time. Sammy answered with sweet Jazzy in her arms, fingers grasping at her mother’s lips. “I can’t stay,” she told her, knowing that unannounced guests were not always welcome when you had an infant in your home. “I figured you could use a little pick me up at the coffee shop, and it comes with babysitting for the afternoon on the day of your choice.” Laura glowed explaining this to her, as she knew how appreciated a day would be. “Thank you and Happy Birthday,” she replied.

Jazzy reached for Laura and she gratefully grabbed her. Holding her head close to her face, she felt the warmth of her little body, the caresses of her fingers in her hair and the smell of fresh powder. This was a gift in itself. She closed her eyes for a moment to take her all in and found it difficult to give her back.

Her coworker, Jeremie, was home on this Saturday, mowing the grass when she pulled up. “Hey,” he called as she turned it off. The embrace he gave her may have lasted a bit longer than she expected, not that she minded. “Why are you giving me a gift? It’s your birthday. Hang on, I have something for you in the house,” he said. This, was a surprise. He brought out a hard cover book telling her it was the best book he had read in a while and she’d love it. They were both fond of science fiction, and when she saw the cover, she kept the surprise to herself. He’d unwrap it later and realize they had exchanged the exact same book.

Dusk was falling when she came upon the grocery store, 3 gifts delivered, 1 to go. She was about to signal to turn in when it hit her like a ton of bricks. Laura was blessed. She had expected to feel joy in the giving today. She had not expected anyone to remember her birthday. She had expected a prank or two. She had not expected this guilty feeling as she pulled into the parking space. The last “gift” was part of the tradition, and eggs were on sale! Walking past the cold section, she chose a cake instead.

Forgiveness is the key to happiness she told herself. And besides, his car would look so much better with cake than rotten eggs in the morning.