Twenty-one years ago today, I became a mother. Today will be a busy day – working half a day from 7am to 11, then driving 4 hours to where my son Sam goes to college so that I can celebrate with him. Then the four hour drive back home. That sounds brutal, but it’s actually an easy and enjoyable drive. Usually I listen to a lot of podcasts to pass the time, and I stop at the same places along the way for gas and coffee.
When I was pregnant with Sam, the Dixie Chicks were big and I would listen to the song “Wide Open Spaces” many days as I drove to the school in Fort Worth, Texas where I taught third grade. I just loved the vibe of the song – it made me happy. I didn’t really think much about the fact that my much awaited baby would someday be a young adult looking for “room to make the big mistakes.” Today I have it cued up on my Apple Music and I will listen to it on repeat, reflecting on these past 21 years with much gratitude, wondering how time has gone by quite so fast, and sending all the good vibes I can into the universe for this child of mine.
A time when Mom probably wished for a little personal space from me!
For my entire adult life I have lived at least 600 miles away from my parents and siblings. Right out of college I was stationed in Colorado and then Idaho with the Air Force. After that – Ohio, California, Texas, Illinois, and now Ohio again (since 2004). When I was in my twenties and thirties, I was so busy living my life that I didn’t really think about the physical distance between me and my family. I think I probably called home whenever I thought of it, certainly not every day and I’m sure not even every week. If I’m honest, it was probably closer to quarterly.
As I got older, my calls to my parents were more frequent but not frequent. My mom would answer the phone and say something like, “I knew you’d be calling me soon.” That frequent.
Fast forward (as life seems to do constantly these days) to 2010, with my dad’s cancer diagnosis. It was a bad one – mesothelioma. He was told that a radical surgery would extend his life about 3-4 years. Without the surgery he had about 9 months. He chose the surgery, and did stay with us four more years as promised.
It was around this time that my calls did become pretty frequent. Around this same time my first marriage was ending, and I needed my mom. I called about once a week, which felt frequent to me after so many years of benign neglect. Four years after my dad’s diagnosis, I got my own diagnosis. And that, of course, is when my perspective was totally changed. I didn’t know how long I had left (which I didn’t know before the diagnosis either – but as my friend Katie has said, “The clock has always been ticking, but I hear it now.”)
My dad died when I was in the middle of my cancer treatment. I was recovering from my mastectomies and was about to begin a course of 30 radiation treatments. Nearly everyone in my life praised me for how positive I was and said what an inspiration I was. Only a select few knew how much the cancer had messed up my mind. Post traumatic stress, oh yes. For a year after my treatment ended, I was absolutely certain that I was dying and it would happen fairly soon. Any day now they would find out that the cancer was in my brain, or my lungs, or somewhere else really bad. It took me a year to simmer down and realize that even if the cancer WAS still around, I should probably just enjoy life and get on with it instead of ruining absolutely every moment I had left.
At that moment of getting out of my own head I realized, “Hey, Mom’s alone now. She’s probably lonely.” And I began calling every day. My two sisters were doing a lot to help her, and were there to celebrate all of the special moments with her – birthdays, Mother’s Day, holidays, etc. I managed to visit her about 4 times a year, but that didn’t feel like enough. I decided that while I couldn’t help or be there in person, there was one thing I could do. I could keep her company every day with my voice.
And so we talk every day. We talk about the past (a favorite) and the present, but not so much about the future. I have certain stories that I love to hear, and so I will often prompt her to retell them. We also talk about how we spend our days, but speaking every day has the drawback of only 24 hours of living to recount. There are many times when one of us will say, “Hmmmm – what have I been up to since yesterday? Let me think…” My mom will often say, “I wish I had something exciting to tell you” to which I always reply, “No! We hate exciting, remember? We love boring!” And then we laugh. We laugh a lot these days, and I am keenly aware of the fact that these are the good old days, and they are numbered.
I won’t ever be one of those people who say that cancer was the best thing to happen to me. I’m quite certain that it is the worst thing to happen to me. But there are lessons and silver linings in such abundance that I can safely say that cancer has deepened my life. It has brought me to a place where I am sure of what is important, and I’ve acted on that knowledge. Some people never have that. And so I am grateful.
On Fridays I will post about something that makes me happy. Maybe if you are reading this post you will share something that makes you happy, too!
The photo above is of my bedside table. Full disclosure – if the photo was of the entire table top you would see a tub of decidedly un-photogenic moisturizer, two or three books stacked precariously, and a crumpled up tissue from last night. When I started this blog, I wanted to steer clear of giving the (false) impression that I have a perfect life. However, there are little corners of my life that are beautiful and that do give me great pleasure, and I want to share that sense of gratitude with you. I know that within each of our messy lives, there are these corners of joy, and I think it is a good practice to spend some time each day dwelling on these things, and ignoring the metaphorical crumpled tissues of our lives. I decided to leave the Apple Watch charging in the photo for some semblance of reality!
So. The photo above. First of all, my bedside table was made my father, who passed away in 2014. He was a master carpenter and a true artisan. One of his specialties was creating tables using intricate marquetry for the table tops. I treasure this table as a remembrance of my dad’s talent, his hard work, and his love for his family.
On the table is one of three “yoga ladies” that I bought from World Market last year (they came in a set of three, each with a slightly different arm position). I have one in my cubicle at work, and the last one currently resides in the kitchen, but she doesn’t seem very happy there and may be moving to a new location sometime soon. Whenever I look at one of my yoga ladies, a sense of serenity comes upon me. They remind me to take a couple deep breaths and slow down.
The pewter tray on the table was actually the only thing I was going to write about today. It was only after I took a good look at the photo that I realized how much in the photo actually makes me happy as well. I bought the tray in a store called Pierre Deux in Carmel, California probably 25 years ago. Pierre Deux specialized in French Country fabrics and furnishings, including little pewter trinket boxes, trays, and picture frames. About a year ago I started using this tray on my bedside table to hold my earrings and necklace each night. Oh gosh, that necklace in itself makes be happy, but perhaps that will be a post for another Friday. What makes me so happy about this tray is that it gives me a sense of ritual every night as I remove my necklace and earrings in getting ready for bed. Rituals and routines may be boring to some, but I find them very reassuring and comforting. There was a time in my life when the earrings and necklace would have ended up in any number of random places each night (or not removed at all), but I have found that creating this evening ritual makes me happy.
I will be back on Monday. I hope you have a peaceful, relaxing weekend!
