Unexpected Gratitude for Gifts Already On Their Way
In which I receive a gift that was written and created over 35 years ago. And something that was broken gets mended.
In gratitude to my dearest friends who counseled me after conquering a fear. And those that celebrated my birthday in New Mexico. Gratitude for basking in the glory of Georgia O'Keefe's favorite rocks. And being brought tea and drinking it facing the sun shining on rocks. And getting a leg massage by two friends while I cry. And the desert mountains, and the healing waters of hot springs. And the High Desert Test Site where I am currently in residence.
Scroll to the bottom for a Josie update.
November 24, 2025
Dear Mama,
Do you remember how you gave me your ring, after mine broke?
After cutting too much ginger and doing too many dishes, my gold ring from Ammachi broke, shortly after I returned to the US in the wake of Appi's death. That was in 2013.
I saved that broken ring, and last year a little over ten years after it had been broken, I submitted the broken ring, a rock and a pendant to Nick Dong, an artist in residence at YBCA. Everywhere he exhibits he does a project called “mendsmith.” It was all about taking broken things and making them whole again. Taking broken jewelry, understanding the story and context behind it and then remaking it in a way that renews and refreshes it.
I submitted my written called “Mom Rocks,” and then I explained how you are slowly fading and that I wished to have something from you. I wished to have a gift from you near my 40th year of life. Before you leave. I wanted something that would remind me of our changing relationship. That you are still my rock.
The artist and one of his friends and collaborators asked some questions and I brought the items. Then, In a small ceremony at the YBCA in a small black box they gave back the items. I kept it in the box, and then I saw it again around my birthday. It needs a gold chain. I will soon wear it on my wrist or my neck.
I am struck by this gift you gave me then, that has been mended and re-gifted to me so many years later. I am surprised by gifts at different moments. And I am surprised by the circles and cycles that appear and reappear when we take the time to notice.
Another such circular gift appeared to me recently.
About 35 years ago you wrote a birthday book for your friend Care called “Happy 40th… ‘On Friendship.’” (2-8-1990). And Rachel found it and sent it to me for my 40th birthday.
When I first opened the package, I was confused — had Rachel made me a birthday book in my mother’s handwriting? How did my mom send me a book? What on earth is this little book handmade book-thing?
If time exists then it must be a circle continually looping back on itself.
It is a thin booklet made out of pink and black construction paper and tied together with some string. Each page has an image — mostly animals, cut out of a magazine with hand-written lettering. This book you made in 1990 for one of your best friend’s birthday’s has now been given to me by her daughter, for my 40th birthday, over 30 years after it was created.
It appears to be written in the spirit of The Prophet. Each page is lovingly matched with visuals to reflect the sentiment.
2-8-1990
And someone asked the goddess,
“What is it that makes such a loving friendship between these two women?”
And the goddess spoke.
Their friendship goes through many seasons and cycles together. They celebrate life.
Whether it is the joyful opening and blossoming or the quiet gathering and renewing.
They take risks to nurture and support their young… sometimes alone and sometimes in a supportive community.
They help each other with their pain…
Sometimes one hides out in fear and denial, and the other encourages her to be more free and caring about herself.
They are mirrors to each other…
Sometimes reflecting simple everyday feelings and other times reflecting grander, loftier ideals.
They take time by themselves to look at their own shadows and darkness…
From there they heal and change and grow into their own light…
Remembering from where they have come.
They spend time together…
Sometimes they are very playful and inspiring,
And sometimes they just sit and keep watch trusting that they will know what the next step will be.
But no matter what else happens in their friendship…
They always speak their truth.
Then the other day, after I spent the morning crying about you, I received an image of Bit o’ Honey with a note from Amanda saying “I remember your mother liked these.” And we exchanged a few words and then she sent me a little Maya Angelou quote.
You probably have to be ready to receive the gifts people are trying to give you. You probably have to know that you are ready for something before it arrives. That the gift might arrive, but you might not know it is a gift, or maybe you will not know who it is from, or who it is really for, until it is passed on thirty years later to your daughter after you have already mostly left.
And you might not know that what you say and what you write matters in any way for anyone today, but maybe it will have to be buried, dug up, deleted and then printed out again before it is saved for someone to discover it later.
Thank you for my unexpected birthday gifts. Love you,
Laki
P.S. An extra note of gratitude to my mirrors over many seasons — the friends for whom "On Friendship" continually rings true.
This post is part of a series of essays called Josie's House. Previous essays can be found here:
- New Beginning: In which I try to figure out how to tell people that the doctor at my mother's assisted living facility referred her to hospice care — meaning that based on her weight loss and decline, she is expected to be gone within six months.
- Mom Rocks: In which I attempt to introduce my mother and this project.
- 'Are You My Sister?': In which my Josie-mama thinks I am her sister and I find a letter my mother wrote to her sister after she died in my mother's arms.
- Mandala's Tiles and Poetry: In which I go looking for tiles in India and re-discover my mother's love of mandalas and some poetry-letters she wrote after my grandmother died.
- A Purple-Infused 80th Birthday: In which I marvel at the passage of time, birthdays, and garden metaphors.
- The Cottage and The Blue Couch: In which I share a draft of an essay about friendship, love, a cottage, and a blue couch.
- Wearing Pantsuits to Church: Values Search: In which I look at my mother's values alongside my own.
- A Dream Realized: Journey to India, 1979: In which I share a draft of an essay about my mother's first trip to India, and the next trip when she met my father.
- 'Cry Tests' & Journey to Peninsula School: In which I examine a piece of writing on how Josie got her dream job at Peninsula, thanks to the supportive community around her.
- Submerge!: In which I veer off from the aim of this newsletter and share an essay I wrote about my father's death.
- More Mandalas & Self-Acceptance Training: In which I take a deeper look into the self-acceptance work my mother did and also appreciate the beauty of a Korean spa and friendship.
- Labyrinth: Portals to Love and Other Places: In which I write to my mother and read some poems she wrote in 1987. ‘What is the matter with aloneness anyway?’ she wrote in 1987.
- Retreat to Spirit: In which, 'Are you my sister?' get's a reprise, and I ponder some wisdom from an email from 2010.
