O and the boys
Last year, my husband and I happened upon a bright young lady at dinner one night. She had graduated from college, tried the corporate world, and was taking a break from it as she considered next steps.
We were lucky enough to have her waitress our table that night. We never would have imagined that a bit over a year later, after a lot of screening (she screened us–it’s a miracle we made the cut) she would become a natural member of our family.
Olivia started watching our (then) five-year old daughter daily in anticipation of her brothers being released from school, and when the last school bell rang, she took on all three kids for the entire summer. And I mean ON: to the pool, the park, CMoR and The Science Museum, the dog park with her sweet dog Bella, the SPCA to visit animals, you name it. There were times when (and I’m ashamed to admit this) I was actually jealous of Olivia’s relationship with my three treasures—she got to be with them all day and was the fun playmate I was often too tired to be at night.
Yet, I pushed my lowly-green feelings aside to make way for the gratitude that filled me for finding someone so loving to share our home and most prized possessions.
Among her many lovely attributes, Olivia happens to be black. This has led to some interesting conversations with our now six-year old daughter as we lived in an area that offered little diversity at the time, and she would ask questions like ,”Why are you brown?” and “Why is your hair like that?”
Olivia and my little sass-I mean-six year old
The beauty of Olivia is that she takes these questions in stride, shares her (often-hilarious) responses with us, and we all use them to have great conversations with our kids about how color really doesn’t matter.
Sadly, though to a lot of folks it still does matter. She often gets lots of strange glances at the pool and other locations where she can be seen with our three in tow; luckily her spunky stance poises her well for the raised eyebrows. I jokingly call her my “Jamaican college spring break baby” and we often talk well after her “shift” is over, which is a treat.
This is what she has to work with.
Recently my husband and I were talking about how thankful we are that our generation seems so much more open to not only diverse friends but truly talking about our differences, and how lucky we are to live in a time where children have no idea what segregation means.
Words can’t describe how much joy, comfort, and fun having Olivia in our lives has brought us this past year.
We wouldn’t care (& I think my daughter may actually adore it) if she were purple. I really can’t imagine why anyone would.
