Dear Olivia . . .

Olivia is my mother-in-law.  I've been married to her personable oldest child for twenty-two years.  Back then, I was a pregnant nineteen year-old with no practical experience in the real world of people and relationships; she was an attentive mother rather hesitant to surrender her son to this friendly but strange girl she barely knew.  So, for awhile the dynamics between us existed as quite painfully stereotypical.  Especially that first decade or so.

Long story short, the passage of years, abounding in incidents and allegations, misunderstandings and wariness, finally worked itself out as each of us figured out how to extend the parameters of our lives to include the other.  For me, this included prayer and seeing her not just as a threatened in-law but as a mother and individual outside of her sphere of influence with me.  I sure wish I'd caught on sooner.  But don't we all?  A true give-and-take between people takes effort, requires a measure of blood, sweat and tears.

And immeasurable amounts of talking and laughter.  That is where I'm going with this.

Me and Ollie bear our separate burdens in this world.  Thus, we often bring opposite perspectives to the discussion table.  But now we can chat them up without feeling threatened by those differences.  Contemplate how the other arrived at that place.  And even appreciate the position of the other woman, whether or not we choose to inhabit that same space.  She's good for a chat.  A good listener.  Easy to talk to.  And laughing is like breathing to her.  We've been known to remain on the phone for an hour or more when we do dial the other's number.

For the past several years, it's become the custom for Olivia to fly out to Middle Tennessee and stay for a couple of months, dividing her time between the constant activity of our household and the relative peace of her youngest son's less vociferous family.  Whatever season of the year it's been, when she's with us, she interacts with everyone, from human to animal, with love and enjoyment.  I'm certain that she'd lug both Fabio the Cat and Hank the Wonder Pup in her luggage back home to Colorado if she could do so without incurring my wrath.  (Such actions could wreck our friendship; every gal has her human limits.)  Though Fabio will allow me to pet him at times, only Olivia is able to cradle him like an overgrown infant.  And I've caught her actually cuddling with Hank on his pet bed.  Quite cute.  For Panda the Elder, she has much compassion and patience.

But it's one of her regular personal habits, that of smoking, which has actually led to much needed life lesson for me.  Without her even knowing she's done it.  Olivia passes a portion of her time hanging out on our back porch.  Cigarettes in hand.  Lounging in the white rocker.  Watching the birds as I taught her to do.  Listening to the sounds of our back yard.  She just sits.  Relaxed.  In no hurry for anything or anyone.  In a state of being.  My bushes and flowers and overgrown garden areas all bring her simple pleasure.  And she passes on her observations to me.  Always happy to remind me of what is literally in my own back yard.

When our old shady elm was yet standing, I'd peek out and find her gazing upward, caught up in the sway of the creaky branches, absorbed in the activities unique to this grandmother tree.  In her own way, she loved that tree as much as I did.  In the confines of her small apartment in the mountain town which is her home, she has these memories to comfort her and keep her going until the next trip out to her sons and their wives and her grandchildren.

Recently, I've begun to slow down, in part to the effects of my anti-depressant on my thought processes and sense of urgency over any- and everything.  But, I've started reaping the benefits of lessons passed on to me by the various significants in my life.  In this case, my focus is on my mom-in-law.  Instead of endlessly working on my yard, searching out the unfinished corners and beds, I stand and look.  Absorb the greens, the leaves, the buds and blooms, the blues of the sky, the messages in the wind, the scents abounding in the air (which often exacerbate my hayfever).  By borrowing Olivia's eyes, I am seeing my yard as the haven it was intended to be when first we claimed our stake on this piece of land seven years ago.  Not a place of endless toil and planning and expectation, but as a thing of beauty in and of itself.  A valuable commodity from which I can derive peace and pleasure right now.  Not in the future.  Not at some fixed point where this or that project is completed, and I am physically worn.

So, here I am -- laptop perched on the edge of the white rocker, my daughter to the left, empty coffee mug on the section of handsome stump Olivia and I dragged home from a post-tornado pile back in May, dogs resting, a gentle Tennessee rain falling on the hosta and hydrangea -- on our back porch.  I've been here, seated thus, in some combination of human and canine company, for over two hours.  That would have been unheard of just a month ago.  But much as my pup is taking his cues from me, I've decided to take a cue or two from my husband's great maternal one and imitate her positive aspects.

And it is good.  Very good.

Sincerely,
One Very Grateful Daughter-In-Law

I EVEN STARTED DRINKING STRONG COFFEE LIKE HER