Things Will Never Be the Same

Here we are again. We stepped off the tilt-a-whirl of a year of construction followed by a year of having two seniors. Mary graduated from high school and Calvin from college. The list of life events we checked off is dizzying, even for a veteran over-scheduler like myself. We punctuated musicals and Bravo shows and concertos and senior recitals and graduation parties with a family trip to Japan. Then we moved Mary into the dorms at the University of Iowa and drove Calvin out to Boston for grad school at the Longy School of Music. The finale for me was a hiking trip to Austria with Catherine in September. She and I logged eighty-six miles and wrote our names in the book at the top of four mountains.

Then I came down from the mountain.

Bill and I sit and stare at each other. Now, where were we? Oh yeah, that night on the sofa in our brand new Kathy Trimble house on Blackhawk Road, with not much furniture and no rugs. He hooked up the stereo speakers and we listened to Sinatra because I was out-to-here pregnant with Calvin and the two of us just sat there and watched my churning tummy. Is that an elbow? A foot? The next morning Calvin was born. Now. . . where were we? What were we talking about?

Another baby, ten thousand photographs and a few terabytes of video later here we are alone again. Ladybug and Hub-a-dub. That sofa has moved on to its next life with college boys. I can’t imagine why Mary didn’t want it saved for a future apartment.

What to feel? How to be? What to do? Who to be?

You know the list is long: practice more piano, spark-of-joy my entire universe (Marie Kondo style), write a book, join a new church, travel more, stay home more, simplify the garden, expand the garden, go out to eat more, eat healthier at home. Blah, blah and blah.

Also, by the way Sara, you really deserve a rest after raising two kiddos from scratch. And, also by the way, they aren’t exactly gone. They’re still there on the text stream and the phone and the FaceTime and they even came home for a precious fall weekend, short but oh so sweet.

In my darkest moments, I fear that the best times are in the past. The safety of the four of us at home and all the years together in the not-so-new anymore Kathy Trimble house on Blackhawk Road are gone.

But, I tell myself, I’ve felt these things will never be the same feelings before. I felt them at ten years old when my best friend moved away, in 1982 when my sister left for college, in 1986 when my folks moved from my childhood home, in 2009 when my dad died, and in 2010 when my grandma passed away and her and my grandpa’s farm was sold. Life has a way of putting an end to certain eras and. . . things will never be the same.

When daylight comes, I remember that every new era has had its complete joy. We couldn’t stay the Stephens family at 201 West LeClaire Road in Eldridge, Iowa forever, nor in hindsight would I want to. I would have missed Northern Illinois University and Texas dance halls, and my own Minnesota marriage and children, and by the way, my childhood friend is still coming to visit me and calling every week. Things are still turning out okay. They are better than okay. I still miss my dad and Bill’s mom. Things will never be the same, that it still true, but so far I have no reason to believe that the next season won’t be just as good.

Ten thousand photos, all those videos, a closet full of scrapbooks, and boxes of journals don’t lie. Life carries on.

In the daylight these actually are the bests of times, and by these, I mean the present times. Every new present time. Every new day. Even when the little red car pulls out of the driveway, and you hug goodbye at the airport, after the goodbye gloomies pass, (and they always do) life is still at its core very good. Don’t wish it away. Your tears are falling and you feel that ache because you miss people you love. But only one special moment is over. The next one is right around the corner, and it might be even better. In the meantime, when I slow down and listen, I feel a promise from God that even though things will never be the same, all will be well. And the answers to my questions are all good.

What to feel? Grateful. Hopeful.

How to be? Peaceful. Wise.

What to do? Love people. Be in the moment.

Who to be? Keep being Sara.