Shortly after my last post, I decided to seize what was left of the day, change myself AND Jace out of our pajamas, and go for a little walk.
We were stopping at every flower, bird, and tree in sight until we turned the corner and there was a neighbor (we had never met) mowing her lawn. I took a second to admire this woman mowing her lawn because a) I've never mowed any lawn in my entire life, not even sure I've touched a lawn mower and b) she wasn't some young, athletic woman, she was actually kinda old.
The second she saw Jace, her whole face lit up and she stopped the lawn mower to come over and talk to us. She introduced herself as Ann, asked us about us, was so friendly and so warm and then dove right into her story. Who she is, how she is and why she is that way. We poured over a conversation that pierced straight through my heart.
You see, when Ann was my age, she was exactly who I stay up at night dreaming about now, only my face is on her face. She is the people I idolize. Ann was a nurse (which was my original career path when I started college). Toward the end of her career she was a Professor at the University of Washington teaching nursing to college students. But, before that, she was a free spirit. The wind whispered and she floated away with it, taking her gift of healthcare to reach the corners of the world. She told me about all the different continents and countries she visited. She walked on the grounds of Asia, Europe and South America, to name a few. Each wrinkle on her face had a story to tell. You could read them. Rich stories about her experiences with the nations, with all the different people in the world she got to meet and all the cultures she got to immerse herself in and all the friends she made that were nothing like her but she clearly loved.
She loved her lifestyle.
When we got to talking about Owen and Jace and the conversation went back to her, she told me she didn't have a husband or kids. She never married. There were opportunities, but the timing was never right. She was a free spirit. She wanted to keep moving. And it was a price. She didn't sound like she had the burden of regrets because she seemed like she loved what she had made of her life. She loves her memories, that is certain.
I'm glad I decided to seize what was left of that day because all week those dreams of mine where my face is on hers, they were different. I realized that while the price she paid may have been worth it to her, I can't say it would have been worth it to me. Sure, diapers and crumbs on the floor, and the monotony of daily life aren't always as attractive as trotting the globe and meeting new people, but I'm here now and nothing in me wants to be anywhere but here. Not necessarily here as in on my bed in this house in Edmonds, Washington, USA. But, here. With this husband and this beautiful baby and these family members and these friends. Here.
I don't think Ann was one tiny bit wrong in what she chose to do with her life. The world needs people like her, willing to pull up their roots and bring them wherever they go. To take their gifts to bless others who are less fortunate. I love it. I love and admire and envy what Ann did with her life. She's clearly a strong woman. She's who I've always wished I could be.
But, I'm realizing, I, too, am who I've always wished I could be. I am a wife and mother and someone's best friend and someone's sister and daughter. When I was younger, I used to lie awake at night and dream of this me. I love this me. While the world needs the strong women who are gonna strap on their boots and get dirty, the world also needs compassionate mamas who are willing to plant their roots and lay down their dreams and ideas of a "perfect life" to wipe snotty noses and kiss owies all better because those babies will someday be the caretakers of this world. For now, they are the center of our own little world and that is enough to get us up every morning and remind us that they are so worth it. Most days, it couldn't get any more perfect than this.
They say, "The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world."
I think I get it now.
We were stopping at every flower, bird, and tree in sight until we turned the corner and there was a neighbor (we had never met) mowing her lawn. I took a second to admire this woman mowing her lawn because a) I've never mowed any lawn in my entire life, not even sure I've touched a lawn mower and b) she wasn't some young, athletic woman, she was actually kinda old.
The second she saw Jace, her whole face lit up and she stopped the lawn mower to come over and talk to us. She introduced herself as Ann, asked us about us, was so friendly and so warm and then dove right into her story. Who she is, how she is and why she is that way. We poured over a conversation that pierced straight through my heart.
You see, when Ann was my age, she was exactly who I stay up at night dreaming about now, only my face is on her face. She is the people I idolize. Ann was a nurse (which was my original career path when I started college). Toward the end of her career she was a Professor at the University of Washington teaching nursing to college students. But, before that, she was a free spirit. The wind whispered and she floated away with it, taking her gift of healthcare to reach the corners of the world. She told me about all the different continents and countries she visited. She walked on the grounds of Asia, Europe and South America, to name a few. Each wrinkle on her face had a story to tell. You could read them. Rich stories about her experiences with the nations, with all the different people in the world she got to meet and all the cultures she got to immerse herself in and all the friends she made that were nothing like her but she clearly loved.
She loved her lifestyle.
When we got to talking about Owen and Jace and the conversation went back to her, she told me she didn't have a husband or kids. She never married. There were opportunities, but the timing was never right. She was a free spirit. She wanted to keep moving. And it was a price. She didn't sound like she had the burden of regrets because she seemed like she loved what she had made of her life. She loves her memories, that is certain.
I'm glad I decided to seize what was left of that day because all week those dreams of mine where my face is on hers, they were different. I realized that while the price she paid may have been worth it to her, I can't say it would have been worth it to me. Sure, diapers and crumbs on the floor, and the monotony of daily life aren't always as attractive as trotting the globe and meeting new people, but I'm here now and nothing in me wants to be anywhere but here. Not necessarily here as in on my bed in this house in Edmonds, Washington, USA. But, here. With this husband and this beautiful baby and these family members and these friends. Here.
I don't think Ann was one tiny bit wrong in what she chose to do with her life. The world needs people like her, willing to pull up their roots and bring them wherever they go. To take their gifts to bless others who are less fortunate. I love it. I love and admire and envy what Ann did with her life. She's clearly a strong woman. She's who I've always wished I could be.
But, I'm realizing, I, too, am who I've always wished I could be. I am a wife and mother and someone's best friend and someone's sister and daughter. When I was younger, I used to lie awake at night and dream of this me. I love this me. While the world needs the strong women who are gonna strap on their boots and get dirty, the world also needs compassionate mamas who are willing to plant their roots and lay down their dreams and ideas of a "perfect life" to wipe snotty noses and kiss owies all better because those babies will someday be the caretakers of this world. For now, they are the center of our own little world and that is enough to get us up every morning and remind us that they are so worth it. Most days, it couldn't get any more perfect than this.
They say, "The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world."
I think I get it now.
im running out of ways to say i love your writing, but i do! i do!
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