On Sunday, our oldest daughter turned 18, and in the evening, once the elusive winter sun set, I took my son back to college, over the highways, through the cold and the dark and the settling frost. It is the second Sunday of Advent, and in the spirit of Advent’s waiting, I am waiting for the day when I can come to terms with how quickly our family has changed in the last four months.
The years leading up to a child’s leaving seem long and even, without any major changes in sight, and then, one day, out of nowhere, you set the table with one less setting because they are away.
* * * * *
Seventeen years ago I left Victoria Station in London, driving our Mini on the twisting urban streets, leaning my way through the roundabouts, passing Green Park and Hyde Park and Harrod’s, the city full and alive, and finally hitting the A40 to the M40 and darting northwest. It was dark then, too, and I was tired. Most often on those drives home from work I listened to David Gray.
Crazy skies all wild above me now
Winter howling at my face
And everything I held so dear
Disappeared without a trace
I would pull up outside our small cottage in Wendover and walk to the door, turn the key in the lock, push it open. Cade was two years old then, a stumbling little pork chop with a grin from ear to ear. He’d run to the door, his head barely reaching up to my knees, and I’d scoop him up and rub my chin under his neck until he squealed with laughter. Then into the living room, hugging Maile, finding little baby Lucy. I’d spread out on the couch and Cade and Lu would crawl all over me, these two tiny humans who required so much.
But did they require so much? Having toddlers is exhausting, but it is nothing like helping young adults navigate their way into adulthood.
Back there in Wendover, England, it was the four of us against the world, the four of us in a far-off land, the four of us eating dinner together and all those diapers changed and bedtimes and bath times navigated. Maile and I would fall into the waiting arms of the sofa each night, sigh with relief. Another day done. And another. And another.
On Saturdays we walked along the canal and looked at the ducks. On Sundays, we went to church, came home, and watched soccer on Sky TV.
And life went on, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. There were joyful days of celebration and dark, dark times of despair but more often than not every day was nothing more than a day, a regular old day, thousands of days that I can’t remember.
* * * * *
On Sunday, Lucy turned 18.
That evening, Cade hugged me with the arms of a young man and turned, walked into his dorm on the very campus where Maile and I first started dating 25 years ago.
After I dropped him off, I drove home over the bridge that looks out on the city skyline, choosing the bright way home instead of the dark, sweeping curves of the turnpike.
* * * * *
But even as life changes, there are new gifts to be found: the Christmas lights shining on the front porch, the coming home to find Maile in bed reading to Leo and Poppy. Sam and Abra coming into their own. More books to write and more days to live.
Maybe Advent is wearing down my defenses, my insistence that things should stay the same. Maybe this Advent I am learning how, as Maile preached on Sunday, to open my hands and let go, stop trying to control the people and situations around me, to receive the gifts that are waiting.
Writing Classes - Registration Now Open!
In other news . . . Maile and I are excited to announce that our 2023 classes are open for registration, with two courses starting in January!
The Re-Vision Experience is a 12-week online course designed to help you examine your first draft of a novel or memoir and identify the steps you need to make it better and get it closer to a final draft. All you need for this class is a completed first draft and a desire to improve it!
The Nine Month Novel is a 9-month course during which we walk you through the elements of writing and engage your creativity to help you write an 80,000-word manuscript. Relevant for writers at any level or place on the journey.
You can find out more about these courses and register for them HERE.
As a parent who is becoming more keenly aware of the passing of time, this was good for my soul, Shawn. Open hands...