Time to Start Again

When I stop and recall the path of years that have lead me to where I am today, I find myself bewildered at the pace at which they passed. I’m 51 now, old in the eyes of the young. Yet I don’t feel old, as I’ve seen old, as I imagine old. I feel enlightened in some ways, a bit worn by emotion and experience, and a need to find a productive and fulfilling trail that will make me happy through the remainder of my life.
I recall the wedding, 27 years ago, but those recollections are foggy. With clarity I remember when, 24 years ago, the doctor told me the baby’s due date was December 22. I was as high as a kite until I realized the timing. Luckily he came along on the 12th of that month in 1986, which seems about a decade ago. I’ll never forget crying in the shower with the ‘baby blues’ as I’ve heard it called. I felt overwhelmed and lost in a changed life. In 1990 I had a girl and no blues.
Each kid started toddling and talking, soon they drew, learned to read a bit, ate macaroni and cheese with hot dogs, watched cartoons, listened to stories, played with Lego’s, dinosaurs, and Beanie Babies, rode their bikes, made giant cards for mother’s day and father’s day, joined scouts, played soccer, made friends, and developed culinary likes and dislikes, and grew older. Soon they were doing math we couldn’t help them prove, then came the next phase.
As the years past and they entered the Jr. High and High school years, I noticed that parenting had changed. The work was less laborious, yet more difficult. My husband and I had entered the phase of mind games. We were always watchful but now we had to do our homework. It helped to be on the same page and prepared. We learned that the terms we had used for drugs changed along with the math. We changed the doors of the den from wood doors to doors of glass and wood which made the computer visible; I checked the history on it as well. Conversations were welcomed but not always achieved. When they wanted to go out I had my questions and they had their replies, why, why, why, why? Soon they gave up and told me what, where, when, and who plus another phone number.
As our babies morphed our parents grew older, grew old. My parents had moved to be near us so I could help with dad. Life had other plans. Soon I was caring for my dad with Alzheimer’s and my mom with cancer which was detected after the move. Thank goodness I have a sister who would come to the rescue. I was then having some physical difficulties myself, I put it aside. In 2000 Dad died, months ago it seems.
There was now school and work, but no extra cars. The van was used as a shuttle and was borrowed. My son had his license and would take it to work after school and occasionally to meet with friends. We assured him it was a chic magnet, but he didn’t believe us. Soon he had his first car, in need of tlc.
My mom was holding on and fighting hard as the kids approached adulthood. My neurological condition was discovered and I used a cane to walk. I took my mom to the hospital each day for radiation. She carried my can and hers while I pushed the wheel chair through the building. She would ask if I was alright and not to go too fast. Being a mom never stops. Mom lost her battle in 2007, just weeks ago it seems. While distributing their belongings my sister and I found items we had made in school and fabrics used when we were little kids. There were pictures to sort through too. We found fun times to help with the rationing of what had been two people’s lives. The condo sold before the housing market came to a halt. I drive by that street nearly every day, but don’t look down it.
The time had come when college was finished for my son. He had a friend in Vegas who he’d kept up with all along. My ‘kid’ needed to leave the nest. In May, his friend flew in and they drove out, out west in a loaded up, low riding, Pontiac Vibe. He took what was necessary, clothing, guitars, speakers, an amp, and a big flat screen TV, amongst the big sub woofer that was in the car.
My daughter and her boyfriend found friends to share a rental with. She decided to pause on school in order to make money to pay rent. She moved out weeks after her brother. Her room is unused. I’m not sure of her future, but if she has to return she’ll not only bring her belongs but mortification as well. I’m hoping that they will find a way.
Then came Christmas, one of the toughest holidays of them all, for different reasons; shopping, wrapping, cards, decorating, cooking, memories of loved ones and now a quiet house. What did you do for Christmas? I was emotional. For the love of Pete, songs, conversation, Christmas movies, pictures, and bumper stickers, any of them could cause my eyes to well, often the dam broke. I was wrapping items for my son’s Christmas box and wiping my cheeks. After dropping it at the post office the Christmas music was changed to rock because it’s hard to drive when you can’t see. On Christmas day Marie’s significant other slept in order to work a night shift, but Marie spent the day with us and her Aunt and Uncle. She complemented me on the food, talked as if she didn’t mind being with us, and said “I love you too” when she left. Who was that? My son called to thank us for the gifts and to tell us that he’s going rock climbing, no deer and snow there, dust and donkeys. I did the mother routine and told him to be careful. He told me not to worry because his knife blade is very sharp.
Now Christmas is over and I’d like to get the trees down. I don’t like to look at them. I’m glad that I can talk to my kids and they’re healthy, and pretty happy despite the struggle, but I feel a bit lost. One day after Christmas and a hard work out, that left me feeling as ripped as Mark Wahlberg looked in The Fighter, I found myself crying in the shower, sobbing. I grinned at one point when I realized that it felt similar to when I had those baby blues, a mere 24 years ago.
Life has changed. It happened so fast I feel as if I’ve lost my way. The kids are still around and they still need me, but it’s different, I feel emptiness. However, I’m strong and I’m not alone. I will pursue the things that give me a sense of productivity, fulfillment, pleasure; writing, reading, pushing hard at the gym and enjoying movies and rating them on Facebook. This week I’ve seen two movies and will see a third, I’ve added my Christmas books to my list of books that I hoard and I have truly felt some sort of healing while composing this exercise. A fulfilling and productive part of my new life will be to write each day whether a little or a lot. Good medicine.

12/30/10 11:30 p.m.