Marriage is full of joys and challenges. Children fill your life with love and challenges. Careers fill your days with growth and challenges. Friends come and go in your life. Even pets leave a mark on your heart. As I approach the mid-mark of my life, I spend more and more time reflecting on the joys of my life and the times that make and made a difference.
I don’t remember much these days but I am starting to care less about impressing others and more about the simple joys that life seems to bring every now and then.
Last spring I was organizing my life’s possessions when I came across a note that my daughter wrote when she was young. “I love a good day” was scribbled across a page in all capital letters. I’m sure she was trying to write, “I love you and have a good day” but somehow, reading that note all these years later, loving a good day seemed like a middle-aged woman’s mantra. At the time, I had spent about three weeks preparing to pack up the house I had lived in for nearly 20 years - raised my two daughters, and witnessed some of life’s most precious gifts and experienced difficult times that would leave an indelible mark. I suppose I wasn’t just saying good-bye to a building – I was bidding farewell to a lifestyle - A lifestyle that included friends, neighbors, career, and a history of experiences. The neighborhood I lived in was rebuilt after the Oakland Hills fire in 1991. We moved into one of the first homes constructed after the fire and our new life reflected the metaphor of the phoenix rising theme that emerged after the devastating disaster. We were building a new life as a young family much like the neighborhood reinventing itself.
As I shifted through an attic worth of boxes and separated the goods into piles of save, give-away, and throw-away, I felt a wave of melancholy flow through my body. At that instant, I faced a moment of truth. Had I made the right choices in my life? How in the heck had I gone from a care-free cheerleader to a middle-aged wife and mother cleaning out a house and getting ready to move to a completely new community without friends or family? Had I peaked with my accomplishments or was the best still yet to come? It sounds so cliché, but you just never seem prepared to face the reality of aging. I certainly wasn’t. Preparing for the move had become my perfect storm.
My two adult daughters had moved out of the house. My husband was working an hour away and was anxious to move closer to work and I was leaving what seemed like a lifetime of memories. More importantly, I was approaching my 50th birthday and seeing the signs of aging daily.
So there, I said it. It really wasn’t about the move, the memories, the family or friends. It really was about the aging process and all the seemingly traumatic emotions that come with it. As I packed the boxes, I realized that the move represented just another one of those life choices…all along life’s very long journey. We’ve heard the phrase that life is short. While it’s difficult to believe that the mid-mark of my life is quickly approaching, ironically, I’m also realizing that life is really, really long. Since it’s so damn long, we need to learn from our mistakes and make life choices that truly give us happiness. Now, that doesn’t mean that life is one big happy party or that we will never experience loss, regret, or challenge. I suppose it’s all those things that make life complicated that shouts out to us that we can’t do it alone.
Through my reflections recently, I’ve realized that to truly enjoy a good day – to make it through this long life - you have to reach out to others to share in the joys, heartaches, and triumphs.
I received an orchid as a going away gift when we moved. Miraculously, the blooms stayed on the stems for over six months. Quite an accomplishment for someone who struggles to keep even the most drought resistant plants alive (OK, I admit, I didn’t water it much – my husband took loving care of the plant). When the last bloom dropped to the floor, I decided it was time to truly start the next leg of this journey.
I don’t remember much these days but I am starting to care less about impressing others and more about the simple joys that life seems to bring every now and then.
Last spring I was organizing my life’s possessions when I came across a note that my daughter wrote when she was young. “I love a good day” was scribbled across a page in all capital letters. I’m sure she was trying to write, “I love you and have a good day” but somehow, reading that note all these years later, loving a good day seemed like a middle-aged woman’s mantra. At the time, I had spent about three weeks preparing to pack up the house I had lived in for nearly 20 years - raised my two daughters, and witnessed some of life’s most precious gifts and experienced difficult times that would leave an indelible mark. I suppose I wasn’t just saying good-bye to a building – I was bidding farewell to a lifestyle - A lifestyle that included friends, neighbors, career, and a history of experiences. The neighborhood I lived in was rebuilt after the Oakland Hills fire in 1991. We moved into one of the first homes constructed after the fire and our new life reflected the metaphor of the phoenix rising theme that emerged after the devastating disaster. We were building a new life as a young family much like the neighborhood reinventing itself.
As I shifted through an attic worth of boxes and separated the goods into piles of save, give-away, and throw-away, I felt a wave of melancholy flow through my body. At that instant, I faced a moment of truth. Had I made the right choices in my life? How in the heck had I gone from a care-free cheerleader to a middle-aged wife and mother cleaning out a house and getting ready to move to a completely new community without friends or family? Had I peaked with my accomplishments or was the best still yet to come? It sounds so cliché, but you just never seem prepared to face the reality of aging. I certainly wasn’t. Preparing for the move had become my perfect storm.
My two adult daughters had moved out of the house. My husband was working an hour away and was anxious to move closer to work and I was leaving what seemed like a lifetime of memories. More importantly, I was approaching my 50th birthday and seeing the signs of aging daily.
So there, I said it. It really wasn’t about the move, the memories, the family or friends. It really was about the aging process and all the seemingly traumatic emotions that come with it. As I packed the boxes, I realized that the move represented just another one of those life choices…all along life’s very long journey. We’ve heard the phrase that life is short. While it’s difficult to believe that the mid-mark of my life is quickly approaching, ironically, I’m also realizing that life is really, really long. Since it’s so damn long, we need to learn from our mistakes and make life choices that truly give us happiness. Now, that doesn’t mean that life is one big happy party or that we will never experience loss, regret, or challenge. I suppose it’s all those things that make life complicated that shouts out to us that we can’t do it alone.
Through my reflections recently, I’ve realized that to truly enjoy a good day – to make it through this long life - you have to reach out to others to share in the joys, heartaches, and triumphs.
I received an orchid as a going away gift when we moved. Miraculously, the blooms stayed on the stems for over six months. Quite an accomplishment for someone who struggles to keep even the most drought resistant plants alive (OK, I admit, I didn’t water it much – my husband took loving care of the plant). When the last bloom dropped to the floor, I decided it was time to truly start the next leg of this journey.
Women are like fine wine, they only get better with age! You are doing well for your self mama, and you have left me and Bec with a great role model! I miss you lots and lots!
ReplyDeleteOk #1 ditto on what megs said...(you are the youngest 50 year old i have ever seen #2 wow mom you surprise me everyday with your inspiration, your words, and your life lessons.
ReplyDeleteI love you so much! and I look forward to reading more of your blogs.
But now i think i have to start one....?
Finally got to read this one. For girls whose mom was old at 40 we're doing pretty well. I didn't realize until I read this that we both moved to our "grown up houses" the year we turned 50. Interesting. You made the right move it just takes a while to make the new house your home.
ReplyDeleteI'm waiting for your blog about menopause!