Everything looks so easy when you're young. Twelve to Twenty-One are such interesting years. I was a fairly confident youth. Looking back, I shudder at the sight of that girl. No one could have told that girl a thing. She was so sure of what her life had in store. It was going to be amazing. No challenge was too great. She was full of imagined strength. She was loving and patient, and well prepared. (That is the truth.) She had no sense of the vast amount of pain, frustration and agony that are an integral part of marriage and motherhood. She had some lofty ideals which for the most part are still intact. I have been true to her dreams, and I am living all of them. Those dreams, however, have brought with them significant challenges.
I'm much more humble now about life in general. I don't expect daily bliss. I am seriously willing to settle for daily survival. It's one of those things that I do in order to be kind to myself. Lowered expectations leave me open to the little bits of joy available to me right now. I refuse to put off a good laugh until my children can keep their rooms clean. Yesterday's pots are still in the sink. I've had a creative bug twitching around in my head for a few days, and I intend to keep swatting at it. The pots aren't going anywhere. My toddler is the sweetest thing known to man. I have tasted the bitter, and I know the sweet. I know the sweet, and I intend to enjoy the sweet.
At this moment, I'm in a kind of sweet spot. It has been interesting in the last six months how my emotional life had mirrored the seasons. Fall was very colorful, very colorful indeed. We were finally able to take possession of our home, and immediately started replacing the flooring. D and I have never been, in 13 years, as emotionally separated as we were during the fall, no fault of the home. We couldn't find each other. It was like looking through pile after pile of fallen leaves for something precious which was lost. Winter was cold. Of course in Utah, winter is always cold. There were a few sunny days. As always, even in the depths of a deep freeze there are some gloriously bright, if chilly, days. Christmas, for example, was wonderful and there were a few others. For the most part, however, it was cold. Lately in Utah, we've had very warm temperatures and it has been so nice outside. We've been walking to the park, enjoying the weather and amenities in our new neighborhood. Emotionally, however, I was still pretty cold. Spring is my favorite season and I was wondering if I'd be able to enjoy it like I usually do. I doubted that I would really be open to it. I lamented the thought of all the beauty without the wonder. Then, like a little crocus sprout, I started to see some green poking up through the barren earth of my heart. Spring is finally here. Flowers are going to be blooming everywhere, and I am going to love it. Already today, the sight of all the bright yellow forsythia was enough to brighten my mood quite a bit. There is a lot of rain in the Spring. I'm well aware that it will be a very long time before I really feel like myself again, especially where D is concerned. Still, what that little crocus sprout has told me is that through all of this, my sweetest joys have been more dormant than dead.
These are the things that youthful me couldn't see. Life doesn't stop for pain, thank the heavens above. Life keeps moving forward. No matter what the cost, she marches on, dragging us right along with her if we'll allow it. She's taken me on quite a ride, and although I'm not willing to say what the future is going to be, I like "right now." I've tasted the bitter, and I know the sweet. I know the sweet, and I intend to enjoy and appreciate the sweet.
No comments:
Post a Comment