new beginnings

A blank page before me,  two months behind me…

Life’s upheavals are testing times.  ‘What will you do with this one?’  I am saddened to report that I have not lived up to my expectations during this time of change.

Granted, within the span of the past six weeks:
1. Jae began a new job
2. I took on a new position
3. Gi began kindergarten
4. We sold our home
5. We bought a new home
6. We moved
7. I had two intense deadlines, one week before and one week after our move

There is a blindness that comes, for me, with pushing through such a time.

At first, before the real change, I move into a place apart; unbelieving that the change will come, but doing what is necessary to move toward it.

Next, as reality pushes in, comes the recognition that there is limited time in which to accomplish a seemingly unlimited amount.

Then, the crushing push of making everything happen.  During this time, essentials seem remarkably difficult; cooking, sleeping, and yes, parenting (though it must happen in one way or another.)  Once these boundaries have been pushed, once parenting (and cooking.. eating, even) has fallen off the map, begins the downward spiral from which it feels, particularly at this point, impossible to recover.

Finally, once the madness has appeared to cease, comes the fallout.  Ungrounded by place, living still in physical chaos, each with our separate experience, we struggle to remember our connections, our responsibilities to each other.

Small routines do help, and since the boys are content in their school and daycare, this is a blessing.  Waking, breakfast, leaving, returning, dinner, bedtime…. during the week, as we are all absent from the piles of boxes and reminders that life does happen here (clothes on the floor, books strewn about, crumbs on the table) these routines keep us grounded even as we struggle to grasp the new reality…  This IS our home, our yard, our neighborhood, our new life….

Tonight, even after I had picked up the boys and made a quick stop for groceries, we arrived home in time for Jae to take them on a bike ride around the neighborhood (unheard of for a number of reasons at our last place.)  I cooked dinner, and as I was putting it on the table, Gi came through the door:

“Mom, do you see the sunset!” (This also unheard of at the old house – in the valley, no sunset.)

I looked out the picture window, facing west, and saw a spectacular red sky.  Gi climbed onto the couch, I sat next to him, and together we watched as it faded.  Intense, beautiful, fleeting.  A reflection of our lives.

Gratitude.

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