This morning, I dropped Kaia and Brennan off at school. It is Brennan's second day of second grade and Kaia's first day of first grade. Exciting, right?! It was. They were alight with anticipation and allure.
So, why did I leave with shining, wet eyes and a barely contained quiver in my lip? I understand that there are many joyous moments that I feel tears coming as though they are literally overflowing from my inner well. I know that there are many excruciating moments that are so painful that the tears seem to come from some internal volcano that erupts when it gets too full.
But, this experience seems like a blend. It seems to be as though there is some volleying back and forth between the well and the volcano. Which is accurate? Probably both. Why do both of these extremes exist in this life moment?
I wonder if I cry partly because I am mourning something. What could I be mourning? Am I mourning lost time? Do we cry because the time that has past was not used to its fullest potential? I wonder if perhaps there is a part of me that knows that as I watch these two little ones embark on this next phase of their adventure, that I have not always been wise or prudent or protective of the time and the times we have had available to us. Have I always been where I needed to be? Well, that's a resounding no. And, I don't necessarily expect perfection. But, are my tears partly because I realize how far I have to go...and I am concerned about who is paying the price for that. I know that ultimately Brennan and Kaia (and Elise) will do well and I know that they have tender and unparalleled feelings for me. Perhaps I am mourning for myself. Perhaps there is a selfish conceptualization of realizing that while they can develop and will succeed well beyond this, I have let go many moments that could have been MORE. Where do they go to? You cannot reclaim them. You cannot retrace your steps and experience the moments more fully, more passionately, or more intensely. You cannot go back and think that perhaps you should have picked the other option in this 'Choose Your Own Adventure' of ours. I don't really know for sure. I guess that's part of the mystery.
Perhaps my tears are also for the celebration. While I think the larger portion is mourning, I recognize that the gloriously sweet moment of looking at their faces and having them wondrously say goodbye to me as they literally skip off to their worlds is delightfully epic. I celebrate THEM. I celebrate Brennan as he patiently holds the door for Kaia and wants to show her the ropes of where to line up and how to play on the big kids' playground. I celebrate Kaia as she revels in her older brother, as she excitedly chatters about all that she is looking forward to, as she says "I'm going to do great in the first grade! I am going to be an AWESOME first grader!" Absolutely, Kaia! Indeed you are!
I am trying to allow all of this to come into me. I want to experience it. I don't want to temper or minimize or categorize or catastrophize or over-analyze or let go of any of these parts. I want to allow for all of them. I want to fully experience the moment of having them blow me kisses and then leave me on the other side of the glass doors watching them run off, as I hold Elise's little hand as she stands beside me. I want to let all of the feeling of looking down at Elise's just turned 3 face and seeing her hot pink pacifier (we call it a suckie) and seeing her pink silky blanket that Amy made her (that's Elise's silkie) trailing behind her in an almost Linus-fashion. I want to allow for the amazement of the parts of these little cubs that I have contributed in shaping and I want to allow for the dread of the parts that I am not as proud of having helped shape. I want to allow for the terror of the moment that I have to let Elise walk through those doors and I have to walk away alone.
Perhaps this may seem melodramatic to some. However, I think it would be foolish and very, very human of me to not allow it all to come through. Perhaps the fear that it is dramatic is a sign that culturally we have tried to not feel completely. Perhaps we only allow the shadowy versions of these feelings and experiences to come through because the intensity can be intimidating and we are not taught what to do with them and how to do it. So, instead we try to put it on a shelf and label it neatly so that it will fit.
But, real life and real people and real interactions are not fitted and neat. Emotions and human experiences are often messy and muddy and can be difficult to wade through. I don't want to wade through them. I want to let myself get really dirty so that I know that I lived through them and that I let them live through me.
I am so pleased with my little ones today. And, I am so terrified for having to let go of more little parts of them. And, I won't trade it for anything--because I get so much return on my investment in these threads of my little cubs. There is never a bad investment...only ones that are not made.
No comments:
Post a Comment