Often in my life, my mind and heart were galloping ahead of my body – light years ahead.
I’m always looking forward to the next phase. The next stage. The next world. What comes next? Will it be better? Will it hurt less? Will it contain less pimples, less drama, less heartbreak, less loss? And as I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that it does contain less pimples and less heartbreak, mostly, but never less loss. In fact, the losses in your life increase the older you get, the more you know, and mainly – the more you love. I’m not experiencing a current loss. Yet. I’m not even on the brink of one. Yet. I mean, I know a near 100-year-old, but I’m kinda hoping she’s aiming for the Guinness Book of Records here. You never know.
It is with heavy heart, today, that I’m experiencing the loss of autumn’s warmth as well as tough news from the world. And my world. I think that will always happen the more I open my heart although I do so enjoy the quiet periods where the phone never rings with bad news. There are days and weeks and months on end in which our delights are larger, and our stresses are smaller.
I’m in less of a hurry than ever to get to the next phase. The next stage. The next world. I suppose that happens to nearly all parents. And I suppose every stage and age and phase has something new to love and embrace. And hey, we’ll always have photography. And hey, we’ll always have fall leaves. And hey, I’m 33 and that hasn’t stopped for me. At all. So I look at these photos and I just think, “Life. She’s doing it right.” And then to some degree, to have her be doing it right, I guess I am too.
“Life. I’m Doing It Right, Sometimes.” (I cannot afford myself the luxury to take full or constant credit)
We do ok. The proof is in the pudding. (pictures)
How long can it stay like this, anyway? How long can I be a young parent, with young squishable children, two healthy, active parents, four healthy, active in-law parents, and three living grandparents, who hopefully aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. And the suffering is as minimal as can be, mostly. There are two sandwich generations, although I’ve been told it’s a lot tougher and more sandwich-y to be the top part of the inner sandwich. What a blessing to be among four living generations, though.
It’s no longer a gallop to the next stage. It’s a slow stroll, on the yellow brick road. We’ll get there. We’ll find out we had some of the good stuff all along. We’ll pick up new “stuff” and new friends and find out some things about ourselves on the way.
And then we make our way to the next stage, age, and phase.
I want to mostly look forward. I don’t want to stop short, or want to go backwards. Forward. One foot in front of the next.
Next up on the blog – a Friday blog share and then, more about the yellow brick road..