Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Skies are Blue

“Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There’s a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true”

On Wednesday, April 26th (2023), it was a beautiful day.

It was also a beautiful day on Saturday, April 26th (2008). It was touch and go for awhile, with wind and sprinkles, and ominous clouds (in 2008). It was somewhere around 60 degrees, but even in a white dress with bare shoulders, I never felt cold nor hot. I just felt. The sun burst through the clouds, sure as anything, somewhere right before 4pm. It’s like we all expected it. This wedding won’t have rain or even clouds. It won’t have snow or even sleet. It might have a moose bursting through the ceremony from the deep woods (sadly, that didn’t happen) or a cake toppled with chocolates and moose and wolves (that did happen). It snowed in Vermont the weekend before our wedding, and the weekend after our wedding. I find myself asking a lot of questions these days. “But what does it all mean??” Maybe it’s because I’ll never really know, and maybe it’s because that’s all ok. I’m the only person who has to believe in magic anyway. Of moose and wolves and happy little bluebird rainbows. Somewhere over the rainbow, it’s my life.

It’s also under the rainbow, and walking alongside it.

On Tuesday (present day/week), the forecast called for sun and gave us rain. On Wednesday, our 15th anniversary, the forecast called for rain and gave us sun. I had had a fairly sleepless night, because I like to stay up until midnight the night before a special day, as well as the night of a special day, to fully reap the benefits of more awake time in that day. It somewhat backfired because I kept tossing and turning after midnight because I couldn’t remember if I had wished Cassidy a “Happy Anniversary” during the several times in the middle of the night we tossed and turned in unison. It was extremely counterproductive, but we found each other in the tossing and turning, and got to say “Happy Anniversary” before dawn. I gave him rainbow Adirondack chairs a week or so ago, and he gave me a box of anniversary gifts that made me feel very seen.

Cassidy and the kids went to work and school, with promises of coming back early (him) and coming back late from after school stuff (them), and then I was left to blink in exhaustion at the two Littles. I had hired a friend to come over and put my cargo bike back together (new toddler seat and new cushier seat for me), and so we took our first bike ride of 2023. The morning was beautiful without a raindrop to stop us, so I steered us up Route 66 and then onto a very bumpy road that eventually turns into a smooth farm road. It turns out that riding a cargo bike again is just like riding a bike again – you remember how to do it! We saw horses and cows and a pigeon too. A man in a pickup truck pulled over with his window down to comment on what a “neat thing” our bike is. So I marveled at my view as I rode (and used the bike’s electric assist a LOT).

I marveled at my colorful life too.

When we came home for lunch, Rider got down from the bike and said, “Thanks, Mama. That was COOL. We saw horses and cows and pigeons and and and.” He trailed off in wonder, and I listened in wonder because he is so verbose. We had lunch and sat on the sunny deck and I confess I felt a little disconnected and blue as well. I wasn’t able to figure out why right away. Sometimes I feel like I’m not really there, in a fog of confusion. The atmosphere changes, as swiftly as the clouds and sprinkles across the sun, and then back again. It’s like when you take a different route home than usual, and when you walk into the house, you can’t shake off the “different-ness” of how you feel. It’s the change of the atmosphere, and the swift and nearly undetectable atoms and pixels forming and reforming themselves against the rise and fall of the sun and moon and clouds. You have to blink to shake it off. Other times, you can’t shake it.

Later, I explained it to Cassidy. I marveled at the color and the life; how we still have our healthy parents and our siblings, and now we have four amazing kids. Some of our siblings have kids. People met and fell in love at that wedding. Babies arrived nine months later (although not ours). Our house is out of a movie, and the air is so soft sometimes, that you can feel it. And really, it’s about the passage of time, but also that not everyone who was there is still here today. It was like a perfect group of people suspended in time on that mountaintop. Never happened before, and never to happen again. Somehow, that’s ok, or at least we have to make it so it is.

It’s pretty timey wimey for us. We messed with time. 15 years ago, I was only a little over a year from having our first baby. These days, we have our fourth baby, who is still a baby. On the late afternoon of our anniversary, Sawyer woke up slowly from his nap, while Cassidy was in the bath and Des was practicing yo-yo. The late afternoon sun was shining into the den. I picked him up and squeezed him, and he rested his head against my shoulder. We have this thing we do. I say, “Mama. Baby.” I repeat it in a singsong tone. He didn’t wait for me to say it this time. He just snuggled more against my neck and sighed. “Baby!” He said. “Mama.” “Baby. Mama.” And in the same tone I use. He was out of order, or maybe he was right in order. Mama. Baby. Baby. Mama.

And so we were. And so we are. Just a bit longer. Just give us this a bit longer.

“Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh, why can’t I?”