Do you actually know what your parents want to do?
The ambitions you could help with might be the ones you’ve never asked about.
If I asked you what your mum or dad would love to do, how many things could you confidently name? You probably know what they like to eat, where they tend to go on holiday, and their position on several matters you hadn’t asked for an opinion about. But something they’ve wanted to try for years, a place they’re curious about, or a small ambition they’ve never quite got round to? I’m beginning to realise that knowing your parents very well can leave some fairly substantial gaps. My mum recently climbed to the top of a Tudor church tower in her village. It had been closed since she moved there nearly fifteen years ago, and a renovation had finally made it accessible again. The man who could arrange a visit knew she’d wanted to go up for years, so despite warnings about how narrow and steep it got, she went. She sent me a photograph from the top with no explanation, which meant I had absolutely no idea I was looking at the fulfilment of a longstanding ambition. I got the story over a pub lunch a few weeks later, when she was still buzzing about it. Somebody in the village knew this was on her list. Her son, who has built an entire website around helping people do things they’ve always wanted to do, did not. There’s probably a lesson in there somewhere, although I’d have preferred one that made me look slightly more observant. It made me wonder how often we assume that the people closest to us would tell us if there was something they really wanted. Perhaps they would. Perhaps they think they already have. Or perhaps it’s one of those thoughts that has lived quietly in their head for so long that it never occurs to them to announce it over lunch. We don’t all walk into a family gathering with an updated statement of our ambitions, and “What have you been up to?” tends to get a different answer from “What would you love to do?” There’s also something about the role of being a parent that can get in the way. For years, they’ve been the person asking about your plans, helping you get somewhere, or listening while you explain what you want to happen next. That arrangement can carry on well into adulthood without anybody deciding it should. You can have perfectly good, regular conversations with your parents and still know considerably more about what needs fixing in their house than what they’d like to do once it’s fixed. And the answer might be much smaller, more specific, and easier to help with than you expect. Mum once mentioned that she’d always wanted a silver birch in her garden. I don’t know why that particular tree mattered to her, but knowing that it did meant I could buy her one for her birthday. Getting it into my car involved opening the sunroof, followed by a 120-mile drive with a rather unusual passenger, but the difficult part hadn’t really been buying or transporting it. It had been finding out that this was something she wanted in the first place. The specificity mattered too. If she’d said she wanted a tree, I could have bought a perfectly lovely tree that wasn’t the right one. She would probably have appreciated it, but I’d have missed the thing she’d actually been imagining. It’s worth asking the extra question when someone mentions an ambition. Where would they want to go? What is it about that particular place? Do they want to learn something properly, or would they just like to have a go? You might discover that the version in your head bears very little resemblance to theirs. This is useful territory for those of us who regularly complain that our parents are impossible to buy presents for. Before another birthday or Christmas comes round, there might be a conversation worth having that goes beyond asking what they want you to buy. Is there anything nearby they’ve always been curious about? Something they used to enjoy and would like to start again? Something they keep seeing other people do and thinking they’d quite fancy themselves? The answer could give you an idea for a present, but it could just as easily give you something to do together. You do have to let them answer, though. I can see how easily enthusiasm could turn into taking over, particularly if you’ve decided they ought to be getting out more or trying something new. Ask what they want and you might hear an answer that doesn’t interest you at all. You might also discover that they want to do it with their friends, or on their own, and your services as an accompanying child are not required. Mum got herself up the tower without needing me to manage the expedition. Finding out about someone’s list doesn’t make you responsible for running it. Her list currently lives on a bit of paper stuffed into a diary, and I’m curious about what else is on it. I know about a local rowing club she’d like to join, so that’s something I can ask her about before Christmas. There may be other things I could help with, whether that means buying something, finding out how it works, going along, or simply remembering that it matters to her. If you’re seeing or speaking to your parents soon, try asking what they’d still love to do. Give them a bit of time to think about it, and resist supplying all the answers yourself. I thought I had a fairly good idea of what interested my mum. Apparently I’d been missing a Tudor tower and a very specific tree. Header photograph: Andres Molina / Unsplash . Illustrative photography.