They tried to tell me ...
"The minute you realize everything won't be enough, do nothing."
I couldn't - wouldn't - accept such thinking back then. Today, so many long years later, I'm forced to see the wisdom of those words.
When did it begin? I'll never know.
Laughter danced across long-ago supper tables as stories of school work and backyard play were shared along with pork chops and mashed potatoes. The baby pounded a spoon against her tray, splattering squash onto table mates, and appearing joyously unafraid as young fists were shaken in her direction.
Were seeds of dissatisfaction already tucked into fertile soil?
Cub scouts glued macaroni to empty bottles, creating bud vases for lucky mothers. Multiplication tables were practiced on the drive home from dance class. The family dog got a much needed bath.
Were the children happy? I believed they were.
Somebody broke somebody's red crayola and came very close to suffering bodily harm.
"Look, I'll buy you a whole box of new ones as soon as the tooth fairy comes," promised color breaker.
"When will that be?" asked injured party.
"As soon as my tooth finishes falling out."
"Let me feel if it's loose."
"If I let you wiggle my tooth," machinery turns in color breaker's head, "will you forgive me your red crayola and we'll be even?"
"Okay." agreed injured party.
Was that normal behavior between siblings? It was. Of course it was.
Seasons changed with surprising swiftness. Training wheels were discarded from the last child's bike just as gears were tentatively shifted in the first child's car. As my kids scrambled to find and hold individual places in the family, they seemed one big tangle of stretching arms, squirming legs and differing opinions. I had no time to study unique traits of each child during those busy years. I knew one thing for sure and nothing else mattered. Those children were mine. They would always be mine.
But were they?
Would they?
I did a good job of mothering in many ways and failed miserably in others, while decades rushed past in a dizzying blur. Today, I have thirteen grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. All too soon I have grown old, but with age has come a touch of wisdom.
Hold tight to all that's real.
Let go of all that never was.
email: MelindaGerner@yahoo.com
