So on this last day of September, I am struck by the joy and pain, seasons bring when they change-mine sure have.
To start, my two oldest (now age 12 and 13) now look at me-eye level. I don’t like it. It’s the reason, I think, I keep raising my voice at them. As if making my voice bigger, will shrink them back down in size. I miss the days, when each would hold a knee, and wait patiently for me to pick them both up.
Carefully centering my weight, in one full sweep my mother-made, strong arms would catch them both and hang them together, securely one child on each of my hips.
Hubby and I, now prefer playing “Words with Friends” on our smart phones, instead of watching our, old hot television friends on Grey’s Anatomy. We are in bed by 10:00pm and up by 5:00am. Twenty years ago, single and free, we were just hitting the streets at ten and making it back home (first stopping at Denny’s for breakfast) by five in the morning.
The close-knit, sisterhood of BFF’s and girlfriends, I once had cushioned firmly around me, have now sprung out, each quilting her own unique patterns of life, love and legacy.
Occasionally, we find sacred moments to celebrate the patches of life we once created together. Sister-girl times quench our deep need to feel special. Leaving us refreshed but now more saddened, not sure when our schedules will be clear enough or love tanks, drained low enough, to make each other a priority again.
Most recently, the winds turned and I followed. Saying good-bye to the classroom and cafeteria where I once served and lived out my passion for youth as a teacher and mentor-I changed my course. It was hard and it was painful.
No longer able to push down, dreams deferred, of becoming a stay-at-home writing Momma and published author. Afraid of becoming a hypocrite before their eyes. One student called me out and it sealed my new journey.
“Mrs. V, how you gonna tell us to reach for our dreams, when you haven’t even finished yours?” Ouch!
My mood for the past month has been just like our weather in Portland. Some days I am beaming with joy and confidence certain of brighter days of purpose and destiny headed my way. No cloud in the sky. Other days I can’t stop crying, like the downpour of September showers that refuse to break. Every memory, milestone and miracle, I had the privilege of witnessing with my students keep swelling up and flooding over my soul. It’s just too much to let go of.
Today I am home with a sick Nya. We are eating lunch at the table-centered between the living room and dining room.
“Mommy, Look it’s raining on one side of the house and sunny on the other!”
I look first, at the window in the living room, the dark clouds hovering over the front yard are gray and heavy. The rain pouring out from them, is pounding hard. But the scene is beautiful, because it is passionate and strong, each raindrop is speaking every time it hits the pavement. Saying, don’t forget me, I was here.
Out the dining room window, the sun is glistening on, wet,changing from green to burgundy leaves. A thin backdrop of blue sky is waiting behind cottony, white and light gray clouds. The scene is lighter and it gives me a, peace. And I hear whispers about my tomorrow. Saying, stay with me, I AM is here.
So in this place, of both sunshine and rain I am grateful for both windows. Each framed the picture of my heart this September, the changing of my seasons, the pain and possibility every new and old cloud and the beauty that is only seem when it is both raining and shining at the same time.