It’s funny for it to be September, and for you to find yourself in the center of a Christmas decor aisle,
but there I was, and boy was I feeling committed to it.
I’d force my 2020 mood into submission if it was the very last thing I did.
Mom’s stroke, sick husband, distance learning, pandemic.
Nothing a little fake snow wouldn’t fix.
Outside was hot enough that the van looked wavy through the store’s double doors;
A fact I was busy cheerfully ignoring as I added jingly, sparkly things and a few ornaments to my cart,
and then added some more.
(It turns out therapy animals can be made of craft supplies and glitter)
For one of the few times this year I was actually feeling good.
My oldest daughter, Alena, and husband, Aaron, were walking on up ahead.
She pointed out all the things that she loved, and he snuck behind her and added them to the deep recess of their growing pile.
I smiled at their young love – Still in the “Get whatever you want” phase.
Fifteen years into my marriage and we’ve well moved on to the Side-Eyeing one.
We winded through aisles and I heard the words “future baby,” and I looked up to see Alena holding up a stuffed giraffe she had found.
Aaron added it to the cart, too.
It was like I saw her standing there with that giraffe as a toddler, and right before my eyes she changed.
Sleepovers, graduation, wedding, now onto this next big life thing;
All as I stood watching, before me she fully grew.
We had come into this hot-as-the-surface-of-the-sun town for a visit, to see my mom after her recent stroke. The 4 hour road between our home and hers is desolate.
It had given me time for lots of thought.
Blank open spaces are good for deep thinking; When it’s only dry grass and the sky.
That view makes you feel like you should fill it somehow.
I had looked out the window as my Son-in-Law had driven,
and felt like I was watching my whole life pass by.
Because Aaron was driving I’d let Alena sit up in the front with him, and I’d climbed into the middle seat with the two Jr. Highers, Chloe and Tessa.
That in itself was a special kind of treat.
They made me laugh the whole way with their antics the way they always do.
I joked about needing a shock blanket waiting for me, but knew full-well I loved every minute pressed up with those two.
Arriving into town made me inhale slowly, not knowing what I was about to face.
My brother and mom had been communicating with me about life after my mom’s recent stroke,
but there are some things the only daughter can know.
Some things have to be seen.
She had been telling me she was fine, just more tired, but there was a weight behind her words whose cause I needed to fully know.
I hugged her more gently when I saw her than I usually do.
Her shoulders felt more narrow and hollow.
I worked hard to make the tone of my voice one she feels like she knows.
It took walking into the bathroom for me to really take it all in.
I stood there after I had locked the door behind me and stayed still and quiet, looking around at a life I had had no part of up until then.
There were more pill bottles on the counter.
A handle and seat were in the shower,
and there I slowly exhaled everything in me that I had breathed in during all those empty miles.
My mother has been one of my top most people.
The one cheering on every sideline.
That bathroom view whispered asking what I’d do without her voice cheering.
That bathroom stood for the passage of time.
I exited it after feeling my feelings and never once spoke of it with anyone.
We watched new good shows on Netflix together.
We piled on the couch. The dog jumped on, too.
We talked by the pool, and just enjoyed our much-too-short visit,
but everything on that trip told me to hold on.
Hold on to every precious minute of it before you have to wave goodbye on the lawn.
I had needed that trip to the Christmas aisle as much as I’d needed any other part on that trip.
I had needed a reminder that joy in life can be planned on as much as the hard parts of it.
This last week I had one of those moments where you get to see snapshots of your life if you’re looking for them.
The babies and pre-teens, future grandchildren, and signs of aging parents.
The bittersweet passage of time.
I long for a life full of Christmases,
my family smiling and piled around me.
I long for soft white glow, and cinnamon, and favorite things put on the tree.
This year has been often painful, and hard, but last week I saw that the kind of Christmas my spirit is longing for is quietly happening every day.
In the car ride squished beside a giggling pre-teen,
In a hug – even one more gentle than desired,
In stuffed giraffes, and hopeful smiles,
and carts with things I like.
In a couch already too full when the dog jumps on.
Even in the reluctantly waved goodbye.
I saw my life full of Christmases
And it filled up the sky.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
