Hurricane Weather

There's this still place in life that you come to. I've always heard that if you can get into the middle of a hurricane, you can fly a plane around in there. It's quiet and still, unmoving. So that's where Ken and I find ourselves. The kids are grown, the grandkids are coming. On the other side, our parents are aging. They're still doing well but once in awhile I see glimpses of fragility, peeking past their strong-willed independence. There are powder kegs everywhere, of different kinds. Bursts of life sprouting forth with energetic squeals from the children. I get reminded that I really need to get these legs back into the gym, just to keep up a semblance of breathing. Then I sit down with our old folks and I have to remember that they are indeed getting old. They're not going to live forever and I need to stop what I am doing to cherish the hours I have with them. Everything doesn't have to be done right now. There's a lot of stuff that can be let go of. The things that can be quantified are not the things that really matter.

We are here in Florida for our annual family vacation. A house full of young people (which makes Ken and I the old ones). How soon I've forgotten the treadmill of child-rearing, where diapers and food and potty breaks and food and naps and more food rule the day. Getting everyone down to the beach takes half the day and getting back takes the other half. The wagons get packed, sunscreen applied, and the kiddy train ambles down the sidewalk. Yaya is left here writing. The world goes quiet again. A dove coos near the porch, a distant lawnmower whirs, a little plane buzzes over. It was yesterday that I was the one driving the kiddy train, the one that I thought would never stop. I guess it didn't stop, I just handed over the reins. The grass keeps growing and still needs cutting. The boat of life turns slowly most of the time, though sometimes a storm takes it down. 

The challenge of the years is: stay the course, don't surrender to my weaknesses, love and forgive, don't grow bitter or weary in well doing. Enter each day with gratefulness and don't lean much into my preferences; don't let my world grow too small. In the eye of the hurricane, just because all seems quiet, don't get caught dawdling.