One year from now, I'll be at that wonderful age. The time of freedom and fullness that I have so rightfully earned from years of living life and gathering coins on someone else's time line. I am soooo joyFULLY anticipating this day!!
Weird? Well maybe for some, but for me, it means the beginning of the rest, the best, part of my life. Well, apart from the birth of my girls, or shall I say women, that share my love and life. Let me explain...
I've spent the last 10 years listening to my soul song; following it through the highs and lows, flatlands and mountains, rain storms and bright suns. Adjusting my sails and steering around the storms of the "machine" as I journeyed. There were times that I couldn't hear the music at all. Those were cold, dark, and confusing times. There were times when the music was loud and almost deafening; a scream to pay attention! These were the times of awakening, the times of remembering, noticing, learning...as I approach the time that will finally be mine, it seems that the music has taken on a soft melodic meandering tone that is healing. It sings of time, and space, and all things coming true. These stanzas, some played just in the last hours has moved me to write again. So here I am, composing my prose from a much older, much wiser, and if I'm honest, a profoundly fatigued station in life...
As this wonder has been unfolding, to my chagrin, I have also felt a sense of deep sadness. Not the kind that comes from an ending per say, but more the kind of melancholy that comes from the slow, deliberate grind in the turning of the wheel. The march of time that no matter how hard we wish, can never be slowed or silenced.
Just yesterday, I was chatting with my oldest daughter. A child once determined to live out her wildest dreams, and succeeded in the biggest way. She was confessing with a cheeky giggle that she and her sister were going to meet with their hubbies at a common point on their way to an over seas adventure. I was being teased that it was "sister time". Since they, like my younger sister and I, live many miles from each other, I understand the sacred sister time. In the past, I have had the honor of being on the sideline as they commiserate over coffee. It's a seat from where I witness the most incredible transformations. My daughters, their selves. Both amazing women, both living the life they were meant to live. Proudly, loudly with no apology. Both so intelligent, so knowing, so courageous, and brave, living life large!!
My heart warms knowing my girls are spending time together when they can. At the same time, it occurred to me that this is yet one more slip in the grip of a mother's hand; to hold on with all she has to the children she bore, only to have to give them back to the world from where they came. Being a mother means holding your children close for just a little while; they are only borrowed to us for a time.
The letting go happens...perhaps from bone deep weariness, not having the strength left, or perhaps its the wisdom of age and the knowing, whispering "You don't have to hang on any longer".
I am blessed that my parents are still Earthside. They are in their 90's but are, with every fiber, a vibrant force. I ponder their life, their fearless grit. They wake up every day with a smile and a to do list that must be attended too. I am in awe of the courage it takes to live their life at the very edge of the next. Yet, being so far away from them, realizing the amount of minutes spent with them in their lifetime is minuscule at best; I feel that tug of time on my heart. All the wishing in the world won't bring back those minutes. Each phone call, each birthday card, each holiday celebrated in a 15 x 15 back lit frame is a letting go of what was, and a realization of what will be. It reads like a sad Dickens story of sorts, doesn't it...
And yet, life goes on. Love changes, becoming bittersweet. People come, some stay and shine a warm light on our lives, others go, leaving dirty footprints and lessons on our souls. Lives morph into what will be, what we make of the trials and opportunities presented, or on a roll of the dice. There is a blindingly beautiful mystery to it all.
There is so much to look forward to, so many dreams to realize, HA, even at my age!! But the letting go, of what was, what could have been, what is...that part; that's the part that feels like a heavy suffocating blanket of regret, reflection, and remorse. It can be easy to curl up under it and disappear.
Still, there are memories that keep us warm, songs that stir something deep within our hearts, bringing a knowing smile to our face, a long forgotten picture that was tucked away for safe keeping, dried flowers that are but sticks and dust a plastic baggie, that remind us of the rich life we have lived thus far...
It's the constant achy tug between the soft warmth of a dreamy memory and the harsh cold slap of what wasn't meant to be.
Maybe in the letting go, we make room to receive even more of that richness with a depth borne from experience, regret, love, and time. Our new vessel is forged from the steel seeds we harvest from the past, while the future fills that chalice with all the fluid music our soul is now grown ready to play...
