I came home last night to find my daughter watching a movie with a friend. I sat down with them and looked at them. My daughter lying on the sofa in dark flannel pajamas. Her friend in a grey T-shirt with her shiny hair in a low bun. We talked about colleges, next year, and their futures.
I enjoyed watching them, the way the light of the lamp pooled around them, the relaxed way that only childhood friends can sit together. The way their hair fell around their faces in the soft light. Their musical laughter. I sat in a chair next to them, with my legs crossed, just watching them.
As this chapter of my life winds down I realize these are the most ordinary and precious of moments. I’m feeling a good deal of grief now in a way I didn’t before. The beginning of my journey felt much more like something to be endured, but this smacks of pure surrender. It’s not easy to surrender as we all cling steadfastly to what is most familiar.
As an optimist, I am accepting the natural progression of my life, and looking forward to the changes ahead. I am with intention letting go of my old life, and way of doing things, and allowing the new to unfold. Simultaneously, I am treasuring these moments before my last child is off to college, and I myself move on and into uncharted waters.
Over the weekend I had dinner with an old friend. We had met when our children were babies and clocked many hours in the sandbox, at dance recitals, on the soccer field, and at the country club. We talked about how much we appreciated each other and how we had enriched each other’s lives. It was enough to sit together and simply be grateful.
We never know when the last time we will see someone. I remember my husband the day before he died. He’d been in a golf tournament and rushed to Palo Alto to watch our daughter play the championship soccer game at 4 o’clock that Sunday afternoon. He was standing under the eucalyptus trees wearing plaid golf shorts and a white golf shirt. Tan, fit and healthy. He looked up at me and smiled.
I never saw him again.
Recently, I’ve been asked what I like to do for fun. Does sitting with people I love and enjoying each precious moment count?
I think it does.
Love and blessings to all.
Sydney 