falling toward fall

It is hard sometimes to accept what is coming. Especially when you’re not ready, or prepared. Or when you want the moment, the joy, the light to linger just a little bit longer.

I realized with a slight sinking feeling the other night as I drove home from yoga that it was dark – not merely “the-streetlights-just-came-on-dark,” but completely and fully dark… Only a few weeks before the drive home had been in the deep goldeny pre-sunset light. I remember distinctly because I had admired the bright peach and orange and yellow that played on the tall trees along the road. ..This seemed to catch me by surprise – the new darkness, and remind me that summer cannot stay forever. The sun is stepping back into the shadows… slowly. The light season is dutifully edging its way out of the forefront. Leaving the party, as it's scheduled to do at this time. I had this weird desperate feeling like, no! that was not enough time…

It happens other times too. When I look at my kids and realize they have gone through a growth spurt right before my very eyes. Brooklyn got her ears pierced this summer and sometimes I’ll look over at her as she’s standing there the way she does with her hip out, and she’ll look so big. I want to slow her down. And then there’s Owen. Last summer he mainly wanted to nurse and sleep in my arms. It seemed very challenging at the time, because parenting three other children from the couch with a sleeping baby poses some difficulty. But it made for a slow leisurely summer  -- watching the kids in the backyard and seeing the sun set below the maple trees night after night. This summer Owen is walking. No, Owen is running. And so I am always running too. Everything feels fast and rushed. Trying to get here or there, and trying to prevent Owen from throwing himself down the staircase, which he seems hell bent on doing… And Quin and Peyton. Both girls grow grow grow… And sometimes I look at myself and realize that, I too, am getting older.

As a sidenote… Brooklyn has an amazing sense of smell. If ever she wants to know if an article belongs to someone in particular, she smells it. A stuffed animal, for example. Or a sweater or shirt. She will bring it closely to her nose, close her eyes and deeply and carefully inhale, then declare the owner. She’s always right. I love that she does this. I do it, too. I associate people and places and even certain times with smell. Sometimes I can even smell change coming. It’s in the air right now. In the morning it’s the most clear. A wet and dark smell, like the deepest part of a lake.

I think the trick is believing the change is right. Even when it feels scary. Losing the summer comes with a bit of grief. Watching youth fade is terrifying to most of us. I won’t lie and say I’m altogether comfortable with it. I’m not. But I’m trying to accept that there is a wisdom to it all that I can only just begin to understand.  

Fourteen

Tonight I sat with Owen in the dark listening to the rain and hearing the thunder break in the distance. I was thinking about my young self… The me in Peyton’s age-range – 12 to 14ish. I vaguely remember that girl. She had long blonde hair and a red phone shaped like a hexagon that plugged in to the wall. She talked on it well in to the night, buried under her blankets. She knew everything.

If I could go back in time and talk to this young me, what would I say? What would I tell this girl who truly believed she knew everything?

For starters, I would tell her not to crash her car in to that tree. I would tell her the tall blonde guy her freshman year of college is gay, so don’t bother. I would tell her to avoid the whole hair crimping phase because that style really looks stupid on just about everyone. I would tell her to appreciate her young flexible hips, and if she ever wants to run a marathon maybe give it a try before 4 children come shooting through her body. I would encourage her to learn as much as possible, read as much as she can, and pay extra close attention in math class. I would ask her to be gentle with the feelings of others, and especially her own. I would tell her that relationships should not be THAT hard, and if they are it’s best to walk away and never look back. I would convince her that she is not fat. Her body is strong and fantastic and magical and she can just quit staring angrily in the mirror at the slope of her belly and the curve of her outer thighs… I would show her that the best beauty is the kind that radiates from the inside. That with time and age this beauty grows, not fades.

But she wouldn’t listen. Her eyes would glaze over and she would look bored.

What’s more, I did have somebody tell me many of these things. My mom was there always whispering, and sometimes shouting these things into my life. Often times her wisdom and advice trickled in, and was immediately ignored… But it remained there, lodged in the deepest parts of my subconscious… And wouldn’t you know it, her words, her story, her truths rode up like waves as I grew older -- teaching me, reminding me, edging me in the right direction.

Remember in the movie Superman how he had a secret ice kingdom deep in the snowy mountains? There was a special part of that home that his father had created. Ice crystals of all different shapes and sizes that when placed into a special device would play all the many life lessons his father wanted his son to learn. I feel I learn in this way, too… In increments, and sometimes retrospectively. Little crystals of knowledge stored and then played when the time is right.

Unfortunately, part of growing up is stumbling. Part of growing up is falling down rabbit holes and getting lost deep deep in the woods… Then finding the way out. Part of learning is making mistakes and regretting.

There is a young girl I watch carefully now. There is a young girl I want desperately to listen to me. I wish I could tell her everything. And I try. She has long blonde hair and curls up on her bed with her phone. She knows everything. But I am whispering, whispering, whispering into her mind… And though I know she will sometimes fall, and though I know it will be painful to watch – I hope and pray that I am everywhere in her mind to catch her, ease her, and edge her in the right direction.