There was only one forgotten item
on the trip
and it was mine.
Everyone had shoes and clothes
chargers and earphones
and even toothbrushes.
But I forgot the comfort,
the refuge
after a long day of jeans.
The soft flannel,
The elastic waist,
The perfect fit.
So when we arrived home
and unpacked and ate dinner and did laundry and walked around the yard,
I put on my pajama pants
and sighed a sigh of happiness
at the feeling of home.
When Charlie and I first met we enjoyed a lot of outdoor, active activities. We hiked and walked and rowed. We ran 5Ks and camped and skied. We loved to take advantage of what the northwest has to offer. As each child came along though, it seems we engaged in these activities less. Sports schedules and social events fill our weekends. Less time, less energy, less outdoor fun. We lament this often.
As we started up the hill I thought about backpacking to a back country fire lookout with my dad. We did this each summer growing up, and the hike never seemed to get easier. “There’s no rush, we have all day,” I remember him saying. “Find a pace and put one step in front of the other, just keep going. And take the switchbacks wide.” I followed this old advice, got into a rhythm and moved myself up the mountain.
It wasn’t fast but I made it. My three older kids were there to cheer me on and we in turn cheered on Charlie and Henry who were just a bit behind me. We frolicked at the ‘M’, took pictures, played around, vowed to do more hiking.
The way down was easier, but not much quicker. Charlie and I chatted about our relief at making it to the top. We reminisced about our old active selves. We listened to Henry chatter.
I was thankful that those old hiking lessons came back to me: find a pace, one step in front of the other, no need to rush, take the switchbacks wide...just keep going. Good life lessons really.
“Henry, come sit over here, Dad can take your spot,” I said.
Henry joined me and we watched the rest of the movie (a highlight of hotel staying - tv in bed!). As we all turned out the lights and tried to settle into sleep, I could feel Henry continue to move. He couldn’t go for more than a minute without a twitch or small movement. It was annoying but clearly unintentional.
“Henry,” I said, “take some deep breaths, settle down your body.” I could hear some deep breaths but the movements continued. I lay there worrying about him. I know he can’t help it. I know being in a car for a couple of days doesn’t help. I know he's really annoying to those around him. I worry about his forever struggle with ADHD. As he gets older it doesn’t get easier. It just gets different. We have good days and good phases, but my worry is constant.
“Come here,” I said. He rolled towards me and I grabbed him in a tight hug. His breathing slowed a bit and it seemed like the movements were lessening. I kept him in the hug.
“Does this help?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “But I do always like hugs.”
So I kept hugging him and he finally settled and he fell asleep.
Voices outside the car:
“I’m at the dining hall but am happy to meet you outside my dorm. I can you show you around the campus before I have class. Then you can email me any questions you have.”
“Yes, no problem to call ahead, we’ll get making your pizza and we’ll see you when you arrive in town. I'll have a table set up for the six of you.”
“This huge starbucks order is no trouble, I’ll get started on it now.”
“Welcome to the hotel, enjoy some bottled water while you get checked in.”
Voice inside the car:
“Henry, please chew with your mouth closed.”
“How much longer ‘til we’re there?”
"You're on my pillow!"
“Who took my charging cord?”
“Stop doing that Henry, it’s annoying.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Scoot over, you’re in my space!”
It's a pretty typical day one. I'm excited to spend more time outside the car today.
It’s been a long time since we’ve hit the road for a classic Parks family roadtrip. We get excited to take these trips and we talk about them for years afterwards. Our favorite family memories take place somewhere in the midwest or in a national park or even just in the suburban with some antics going on. When retelling our stories and looking at pictures one might think that we are good at planning these trips and have good systems in place to get us all out the door. One might think that we are thoughtful about our plans and put a lot of effort towards a quality family vacation.
But those thoughts are very wrong.
We’re horrible at planning ahead. We arrive at destinations and find out that one child has no shoes packed. Or no shirts. We don’t think twice about reserving hotel rooms while on the road when we know our timing. We are often calling around a day or two ahead of leaving searching for dog boarding. And it's not uncommon for us to switch up routes midway through the trip. We aren't proud of this, in fact we're a little embarrassed by it. I think we just get overwhelmed with having to make so many decisions and committing to a time frame and reservations. Spontaneity is our strength and honestly I think we are at our best in spontaneous moments. But, it can make the 24 hours before we leave a little dicey.
So, driving down the street today and heading out of town is a huge accomplishment:
Our house is locked up.
All six of us are in the car, and everyone has shoes!
We found someone to watch Duke and he is delivered.
We have a sort-of plan for the week!
We have reservations for tonight and tomorrow night
(and good ideas for the nights after)!
We are on the road!
My daughter and I have a Saturday hobby. When time allows. we enjoy going to estate sales. She loves thrifting for clothes, I enjoy finding garden treasures. It’s a hobby we picked up by accident when we stumbled onto a sale about a year ago.
Today, I listened to the woman in front of us and watched her walk away. It reminded me of the estate sale across the street at our old house. Mary and Erv were the best neighbors. Although in their eighties, in many ways they were our best friends and they loved being surrogate grandparents to our children, who were tiny at the time.
When their health deteriorated and my husband's runs across the street to help weren't enough, they moved on to assisted care living. We were heartbroken. I remember the day an estate sale was held at their house. It was a beautiful spring-like day, not a cloud in the sky. I was in one of my children’s rooms when a shadow fell over the window. I looked to see what it was and was surprised to see a bald eagle swooping over our house, over Erv and Mary’s and out of sight. I had never seen one in that neighborhood and haven’t seen one there since.
Watching out the window I noticed a sale being set up and strangers going in and out of the familiar house. What was already heartbreaking was even more so, ‘people were just walking out with their stuff...they didn’t even know them’. I felt sad, and then, I felt protective. I ran to the sale and picked out 5 pieces that stood out in memories: the blue pyrex cake pan that Mary always served us her chocolate cake in and 4 small blue glass (her favorite) decorative pieces. One for each of my children to have someday.
Today the weather was cold and dreary. The skies were overcast and drizzle was imminent. Watching the conversation in front of us made me reminiscent. I understood the woman's sadness but also understood the neighbor whom she was talking to. He was there to get a “jacket or something" to remember and feel close to his friend.
Children can learn, and I can teach, through a screen. It’s not the same as in person, but it is possible.
I’m capable of doing things I really don’t want to do. There were many days that I just wanted to log off or throw my laptop out the window, but I didn’t. We made it through every single day.
There are some cool things that technology can do.
There are perks to working at home! Like slower mornings, changing my shirt or fixing my hair when I don’t like how it’s looking on the zoom screen, eating lunch with my own children.
Young children are still funny, even through a screen. Lost teeth, their parent’s birthdays, seeing a classmate at a park is all still really exciting.
A classroom community can be built through a screen. We can get to know one another, enjoy each other, care for each other, cheer each other on and laugh together.
While on a walk this evening I talked to my dad...and my mom...and her mom too. I filled them in on what was happening in our life. I let them know how much I miss them. I asked them for guidance. I thought about their lives and how they got so much right, how they did so well despite hardships that came their way. I reflected on my own life as my family enters another time of change: getting out of the house to hybrid school, sending my youngest to the middle school hallways for the first time and watching our oldest graduate high school in a matter of weeks. So much is coming our way and the pace of life post-covid feels exciting and overwhelming. It’s comforting to me to think of them walking alongside me, and us.
When I got home and decided to have a bowl of cereal. I rarely eat cereal, like almost never, but for some reason it sounded good. No one else was around, the kitchen was clean and quiet. I poured a bowl and sat at the counter. I leaned over to read the news while I ate and was suddenly struck by an image of my dad.
My dad often came home for his lunch break. He ate a heaping bowl of cereal with sliced bananas while he read the newspaper. After this lunch he took a 30 minute power nap before returning to his office to see his afternoon patients. He continued this lunch routine into retirement. When visiting a couple of years ago, I walked into the kitchen and saw him sitting in the sunroom, hunched over his bowl of cereal, reading. I looked at him and wanted to remember it, so I snapped a picture.
Tonight after my cereal I went looking for the picture and am so glad that I found it (lots of scrolling!). I studied the picture and remembered. I wonder maybe he had similar thoughts about his life. Maybe he had similar conversations with his parents and with my mom. Maybe I’m more like him than I think.
I wasn’t as early to open up zoom class as usual, so my waiting room was full when I logged on. I let them all in and my screen filled up with all shades of green and lots of chatter about leprechaun visits.
“Oh!” I thought “it’s St Patrick’s Day!” I have fond memories of St Patrick’s Day when I was a recent college graduate living in Chicago. What fun we had celebrating the festive nature of the holiday. But as I’ve gotten older, it doesn’t stand out in the line-up of holiday celebrations at our house (yes, I do have some parent guilt over that). The holiday usually sneaks up on me, as it did today.
In my zoom, I listened to leprechaun stories of green milk, messes left around the house, leprechaun prints in the bathroom and even signs of green pee in the toilet! And then of course my students called me out:
“Where is your green Mrs Parks!?” they asked.
“Oh!” I said, “Just a minute!”
I ran to my closet, scanned the options - only one sighting of green! I slipped on my green striped sweater and ran back to the screen. I got smiles and thumbs up and the leprechaun chatter continued. Another teacher moment saved by a perk of zoom school - my closet just steps away!
He will sit for hours, waiting patiently. He doesn’t make a sound and doesn’t fuss. He watches as we come in and out of the room, and still, he doesn’t waver. At last I give in, I give him a piece, or the plate to lick. He enjoys whatever he gets, no amount too small. I pick up the plate and put it in the sink and he wanders off to bed. I sigh. I wish for his patience and resolve but even more, I wish for his contentment.
It was almost the end of the school day and I was going from breakout room to breakout room to meet with readers, individually and in small groups. I opened the tab to move into breakout room 6 and was confused when I saw Charlie’s name indicating that he was a zoom host: “Charlie (host)” That’s strange I thought. I wondered if I had confused something when I was recently in the depths of zoom settings to set up a guest teacher with access to my zoom controls. 'Does Charlie have the same zoom superpowers that I have,' I wondered. I made a note to look into it after school, but didn’t.
The next morning when students were entering my screen Charlie’s name was the same: Charlie (host).
“Charlie,” I said, “I’m not sure why your name has ‘host’ next to it. I think I should check some settings. Maybe you have zoom superpowers like I do!?”
Charlie looked at me and smiled. He unmuted.
“I was tricking you Mrs Parks!” he beamed. “I renamed myself with ‘host’!”
What a funny trick! I explained to the class what had happened and how I was genuinely tricked and genuinely surprised that a student would know to make this trick! We giggled at Charlie's trickery and how I believed him. Once the kids heard this joke, I suddenly had twenty-some ‘hosts’ in the class ready to help me lead zoom! :)
My phone ding-ed during the morning meeting. I glanced down and saw a message from my mom. Her oldest sister passed away. Aunt Judy was not my closest aunt and technically was a step-aunt, my step-mom’s sister. It wasn't that long ago that I saw her at my dad's service. Pushing her walker and cheerfully greeting us, sharing how much she loved my dad. When my dad died, the cards and calls I found most comforting were the ones that contained memories.
I remember when I was young, maybe 10, I was visiting family in Pocatello. My step-sister and I were at Nana’s with cousins. It was a hot day and we went out to the front yard for a water fight. We didn’t have many water tools, so cups were our main method of getting each other wet. My step-sister and I were on opposing teams (or maybe we were all opposing each other?) when she came to dump a cup of water over the top of my head. I looked up to see what was coming and hopefully move out of the way. My timing was off and I think my sister’s aim was off - the cup came crashing down into my eyebrow. It hurt! I grabbed my eyebrow and bent over. Everyone gathered around and let me know I was bleeding. Yes, my hand was covered in blood. Enter Aunt Judy. She showed up from the house, did I even realize she was there? Her nurse's eyes looked at me and confirmed that I needed to go to the hospital and get stitches (no urgent care back in those days). Going into the exam room felt very dramatic to my young mind, I remember it as an operating room but more likely it was just an exam room. And who was by my side...Aunt Judy. She held my hand, offered words of encouragement and comfort. I felt cared for and less scared knowing that she was there with me. Although I was in a strange town, in a strange place, with relatives I didn't know that well, I knew that I wasn’t alone. Her words and her touch are what I remember most of Aunt Judy. She was kindness & comfort.
The sun has been shining this past week which is so nice for our rainy corner of the world. The ground is drying just enough that we could run the lawn mower over it to trim the winter’s growth. The flower beds offer hope as green shoots are poking up with promise of some much needed color.
There is other growth happening too. My oldest texts from her weekend job to tell me her day is going well and that she completed her quarterly self-reflection and goal setting meeting with her boss. She got a reply from the last of the colleges that she applied to. My son helps me load yard debris into the bins and went off for his first ‘real’ (salon) haircut. He's no longer resisting the idea of college someday. My next daughter scowled at me as we made our way through the department store looking for a hybrid first day of school outfit. She was cheered once she was back on her phone with her friends but apologized for the sullen shopping trip. And my youngest sketched out his entry for the yearbook art contest, happy to be finding opportunities to participate in school.
Spring is on the way and with it growth.
