When I got up this morning I felt exactly the same.
No sudden burst of newfound energy.
No completely revolutionized children that no longer wake me up by fighting in the hall.
I wasn’t suddenly more Jennifer Aniston, and less Rodney Dangerfield.
It was like nothing had changed at all,
and a part of me was glad.
A change had come and nothing had imploded.
Sometimes change can feel so scary.
The girls all moaned when I told them the plans I had for us to walk down the bike path nearby like I had told them I was marching them straight to the gallows.
“But, we’ve never gone there before!”
Did I even know where it led?
Couldn’t we just walk around our neighborhood?
I loaded Paige’s bike in the car to what felt like 50 Ways to Ask Why.
“Guys. Get in. Just trust me,” I said.
“It will be good for us.”
Any parent knows, though, that what’s
“good for us” sounds like grounds to call CPS to a kid.
We arrived near the entrance to the path and parked our car.
I unloaded the bike and we set off on our way.
As we neared the entrance to the trail, however, an old man in his yard,
not fully in his right mind,
called out to us,
“Oh no! Oh no! That’s not good! This is about to be really bad!”
I told the girls to just keep going, as they looked over their shoulders nervously,
and I could tell Chloe was worried he knew something that we did not.
“Mama? Why is he saying that? Mama, will we be OK?”
“Yes, Honey. We’ll be OK.
He’s only saying words. Just keep on walking.”
Paige rode along slowly once we started the trail.
I wondered if a walk with that many stops would do us any good at all.
I rescued her from bushes, and helped re-start her off straight again several times.
Our pace a zig-zag snail-crawl.
Bikers rode by narrowly missing us.
Joggers flew right on past.
I felt we were getting nowhere;
But mid-way through that walk,
we got to a point on the trail where we could see our good friend’s house in the distance.
We all gathered in tight to catch the view if it.
We all marveled at how close to our new place it really had been all along.
We could see the tops of the mountains by our old house the next town over,
and they looked extra beautiful from this new country view.
We couldn’t see them like that before.
Like so many things,
they are much better from further away.
I noticed the girls were enjoying the walk now.
Their sighs had been replaced with laughter.
They were much more comfortable.
“Oh! I know where we are! I’ve seen this before,” rang out from up ahead.
“This was a good idea. This fresh air feels really nice,” Chloe admitted,
walking by my side.
And I realized then that walk was parallel with stepping into a brand new year.
Sometimes it’s hard to get out the door and onto the path.
Sometimes staying where you’re comfortable sounds so much better;
Like so much less work.
But once you start moving forward,
even slowly, and in a zig-zag…
Whether you’re being pried from the bushes where you careened,
or you’re running swiftly down the path,
you start realizing that the familiar is actually there, all around,
mixed in with the new views.
The amazing thing about being in a strange feeling place, position in life, or season
is that pretty soon, if you just keep at it,
that strange feeling place becomes a familiar one.
The unknown becomes what is known.
This last year was a big one for us.
My mom moved away,
we sold half our stuff and moved to the country,
my oldest daughter got engaged.
I remember begging that whole year for just a patch of something smooth and straight,
but what I got was rocky and winding instead.
Last year was full of things I was not expecting,
and I’m sure this year will be much of the same;
with dark parts ahead where shadows lie
scattered with beautiful patches of sun
where everything is suddenly clear.
So many things that felt frightening last year are in warm patches of sunshine right now.
We felt unsure, we pushed on through, and now what was dark is golden.
And I know there will always be voices telling us to be afraid of what’s up ahead,
but we just simply have to keep going.
Ignore fear, and just move on.
Just Keep Going is the only way to really get anywhere,
after all.
There is beauty to be found on paths that we’ve never walked down.
There are new views that can only be seen from one specific spot that might take some getting to.
So here’s to a brand new path, and year.
One where my only resolution, I think,
is to just keep going.
May we silence the voices that come carrying fear,
and tread till we all reach the clearing.
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.
