Birthday Presence

They both sent me a birthday present.

My given name came from a character in a book. I never knew which book, and I never had the courage to ask my mother.

During the last weeks of my husband’s life he was in and out of the hospital. He worked from his hospital bed, and I would visit in the evenings. I brought him letters from the children. After he died, I found one of those letters tucked inside the book he had been reading. I promised myself that I would finish the book for him.

It sat on our nightstand for more than two years. I picked it up many times, looked at the bookmark, then put it down again.

On my birthday, I finally opened the yellowed pages of my mother’s book and began to read. The pages are soft to the touch, stained, their edges unevenly cut. The story is about a curious little girl named Ilana and her mother, a brave, vibrant widow.

Both my husband and my mother sent me a birthday present: a message and an answer.