Twenty-two years compressed into three short chapters
Chapter 1: The Victory Lap
I was looking forward to Back to School Night. The first door to close in our twin daughters’ senior year, like an advent calendar in reverse.
It was to be the final and twenty-second consecutive Back to School Night of my parenting career. If I counted the years when our kids were divided between two, sometimes three, school campuses, the total would increase by a half a dozen or so. For efficiency sake, my internal tally was of just the singular annual benchmark event.
My grand finale Back to School Night was to be the completion of the circle, similarly to how I like to start and stop my runs at the same spot, touching the smooth gray pole to honor the finish.
In my mind’s eye, I saw myself taking a victory lap around the halls where each of our four children went to high school. In the shuffle of parents, I would recognize a few of the same faces from the elementary and middle school years. We would give each other a kindred nod from across the bobbing heads. A grateful, somewhat resigned, acknowledgment of our random good fortune to have arrived at this point that once seemed light-years away.
Chapter 2: The Trajectory
My younger parent-self attended those first Back to School Nights, notebook in hand, with a nieve surefootedness. I attentively listened, read all the handouts, and signed up for the PTA and every committee with a fierce belief that I could get it all right. The possibility of perfect parenting seemed rational and learnable, like a recipe or math equation.
That was before the twelve-year storm of non-stop and over-lapping adolescence.
For each of our kids, senior year is when the gale-force winds die down a bit. But the calm comes with a new distance, as it should, that they guard like a demilitarized zone. By senior year, I awaken to the fact that they live most of their lives behind the checkpoint.
On the afternoon of my final Back to School Night, my girls texted me separately that none of their friends’ parents were going. It would be weird if I went, Twin A added.
I was undeterred by their thinly veiled embarrassing-parent-prevention strategy, although my husband gladly took them up on their suggestion.
I had a circle to close.
Chapter 3: The Grackles
It went against my nature to find myself standing alone in the small gym where I work and not at my daughters’ school. I watched the minute hand tick across the start time of what would have been my twenty-second Back to School Night.
I was not going.
I felt defiant, yet there was a lightness to my choice as if I was flying up above my life, without a bit of heaviness, regret, or disappointment.
When I closed my eyes, I saw the grackles that sit on the telephone wires at the major intersection near our house. Often, as I wait for the red light to turn green, I watch the flock take flight from their perch and spill across the sky, separating and merging, to form mesmerizing fluid swaths of expanding and contrasting patterns.
I marvel at how they intuitively burst into the air, in unison, and then just as spontaneously, land. The birds make the time in-between look like it matters most.
Moving to the floor, I set up for a final round of pushups, the end of a workout I had planned to miss.
Lower down. Press up. Breathe.
The time in-between matters most.
Beautifully and well-said!
Beautifully and well-said! It has taken me quite a while to appreciate and savor that “in-between time.”
Sometimes when I arrive at what is supposed to be an important moment I feel a surprising dullness. I find that it can happen because I had not paid enough attention to the in-between time. I had not brought the energy with me to the completion, so it didn’t hold all the life that led up to it. The in-between isn’t always so great, so it’s easy to skip over, but it’s where life is lived. Thanks for reading and reaching out with a comment. I appreciate the support.
Your comments about the in-between are so important. We tend to skip over them and let them pass, but it is, indeed, where life is lived. I need to remember that more often.
It’s an everyday thing for me. It’s getting easier as I get older, to sponge it all up – the good, the crap, the brilliant, the grief and wounds, the mundane – all of it!
YAY!! You are naturally leaving room for them to leave the room, the home, the neighborhood. It isn’t easy, but it is simple. They are nearly flown, and you are also. much much love, kat
On Wed, Sep 18, 2019 at 5:08 PM Days in the Fifties wrote:
> Daysinthefifties posted: ” A Micro-Memoir Twenty-two years compressed into > three short chapters Chapter 1: The Victory Lap I was looking forward to > Back to School Night. The first door to close in our twin daughters’ senior > year, like an advent calendar in reverse. ” >
It isn’t easy, but it is simple. Like my friend Erika Kluthe says … it’s all about the catch and release of what is ours and what is not. Catch and release – It is my mantra. Love and love to you!
As you and I know, it’s an accomplishment that their lives are lived “beyond the checkpoint.” At this point we can most appreciate the in between times, too. As always, a good read.
Thank you Dani. Love to you!