A Walk, a Will, and the Weight of Responsibility

 We walked around the park she and I,

I was bundled up for winter, while she wore less for spring, 

My soul was lighter but my face bore the scars, 

at this point, I did not care,

I spoke honestly and only prevaricated when she asked about work,

With her choice of words I heard her appreciation, 

that I had not put her in an awkward position, 

She wanted to help, and I was ready to accept it, 

the relationship was after all a work-based one, 

As life had dealt me a series of blows, 

the shake-up at work, my mother's stroke, 

my financial woes, my aunt's death, 

though my shoulders were hunched, 

my spirit was bright,

she did give me a useful advice, 

to sort my will out, in case I died, 

for who would look after my beautiful son, 

a sister I can't stand there was no one else, 

"she loves him and he loves her", 

I heard myself say, 

but she and her husband, a bit of a nob,

And you will need to find an executor, 

for me, it's my best friend and that made me think, 

I have no best friends, just work friends right now, 

and the only person I could think of who was good with money was you, 

and though I should broach this subject in person, 

I felt it better to text you in advance, 

to give you time to accept or reject,

before the next time you babysit, 

you're good with money, 

you are process-based, 

and just in case I kick the bucket, 

I am choosing you to ensure,

my pensions, my bonds, my meager investments, 

stretches wisely to protect my son.

From ChatGPT

A Walk, a Will, and the Weight of Responsibility

We walked around the park, she and I.

I was bundled up for winter, while she wore less, already embracing spring.

My soul felt lighter, but my face still bore the scars. At this point, I didn’t care.

I spoke honestly, only hesitating when she asked about work.

From the way she worded things, I could tell she appreciated that I hadn’t put her in an awkward position. She wanted to help, and I appreciated that, but our relationship had always been based on work.

Life had dealt me a series of blows—the shake-up at work, my mother’s stroke, financial struggles, my aunt’s death. She gave me advice, practical and blunt:

"Sort your will out, just in case. Who would look after your son?"

My stomach tightened. A question I had long avoided.

The answer was obvious, yet uncomfortable. My sister—the one I can’t stand.

But she loves him, and he loves her. I heard myself say it aloud.

"And your executor?" she asked. "Who would handle your money, make sure everything is looked after properly?"

She said it so easily, as though everyone had a best friend or a trusted confidante for this kind of thing.

But I don’t. Not right now. My friendships are mostly work-based, fleeting, functional.

The only person I could think of—someone good with money, process-driven, responsible—was you.

And yet, the weight of the conversation felt too heavy for face-to-face. The words sat in my mouth, unsaid.

So instead, I drafted a text.

A way to give you time—to accept or reject without pressure, without awkwardness the next time you babysit.

"You're good with money. You're process-based. Just in case I kick the bucket, I’m choosing you to ensure my pensions, my bonds, my meagre investments stretch wisely to protect my son."

I hovered over the send button, heart pounding.

It felt surreal, sending a message about my own mortality like I was casually confirming dinner plans.

But life has taught me that the hardest things to say are often the most necessary.

So I hit send.