Hi.
How are you? I hope you’re well and survived tax day and you live somewhere where pollen isn’t the forecast. I got contacts (for the first time!) yesterday, which seems a. way too long to have waited and b. a terrible decision, given that every tree is in bloom and all I want to do is itch my eyeballs out. Can contacts fall out of your eyes? Are allergies a contraindication? I’m not sure I asked the doctor enough questions. Nevertheless, it feels like sorcery to just put these things in and, like magic, I can just SEE.
I also paid an exorbitant amount to the government yesterday because, it turns out, being self-employed requires you to know some very special, also-magical multiplication.
Since I’ve last written, life has been chugging along at a generally unsustainable pace. Our month has been full of swim meets, soccer, church, carpool, spring break, lots of work, and a solar eclipse. All good things, all good things. But they also make this season of the year feel exceptionally fast.
Which breaks my heart.
I feel the uptick of activity every spring, but this year, I have a senior in high school. And she’s been accepted to a college that is not under our roof. And so, she’s getting ready to leave — leaving me with some very big feelings.
As it should, right?
But then there’s also this: many many years ago, I was a senior in highschool. And that spring, my mother went into the hospital on March 11th, a Monday, and left on Friday, March 15th, with a cancer diagnosis. She progressively declined, and ten weeks later, she died on Thursday, May 30th.
Instead of going away to college like I’d dreamed of, I decided to stay at home.
This has been the defining story of my life.
And even though it’s been a long time, March through May can bring a very specific kind of ache each year, alongside the blooming of tulips and lilacs. Most of the time, I’m fine.
But this year?
This year, March 11th was a Monday. This year, March 15th was a Friday. This year, I had a medical exam revealing some concerning findings — which turned out NOT to be another cancer diagnosis, but shook me up nonetheless.
This year, May 30th will be a Thursday.
This spring, my daughter is the senior.
***
The other day, I handed Nadia a small piece of paper with a list of dates on it and asked her to pick one. Since the kids were in elementary school, I had this idea about how fun it would be to play hooky and spend the day together—one-on-one, just me and them. But there is often a divide between idea and action.
One sounds nice. The other is nice.
You think you’ll always have more time. But then somehow, unbelievably, you don’t. And now we have a deadline. In another month, she’ll almost be out of school.
***
There’s so much redemption wrapped up in the time I’m living in right now — and this is yet another reason I could start crying.
It’s Spring, and I am healthy.
It’s spring, and my daughter is getting ready to go away in the fall.
It’s spring, and Mother’s Day will come and go, and Nadia will not stand in a store buying a card for me, realizing this will be the last Mother’s Day we spend together.
Her story is not my story.
Her story is not my story.
Her story is not my story.
And because of this truth, my story is changing too.
Thank you for letting me get serious, and now onto the other stuff …
Until last week, it was still cold here, and I’ve always wanted to have a go-to pot roast recipe that could serve as both a comfort meal for my family AND be good enough to serve to company. My friend Jill over at the gold standard posted this recipe. It’s perfect.
Shaved brussel sprout salad. *** I didn’t have chives (still was delicious) and purposefully used Manchego cheese, which I will go to the mat over how superior of a choice that is.
THIS BOOK. Sobering, and for those in the church, I feel like it should be required reading.
And while we’re at it — every parent of kids 8yo-30yo should have this book on their radar — until it gets to their bedside tables.
LAST !!! I am teaching a new writing workshop! Let the Writing Sing: A Lyrical Essay Workshop will be held twice: once on May 11th and the second offering (same workshop) on May 15th. Would love to have you or a friend come join me! 🎶 ✍🏼
To round us out …
Until text time, take care!
Oh man…sending you a big hug through the interwebs. My dad died of brain cancer a few weeks before my 9th birthday, and it was a whole thing to experience my daughter becoming that age this past February. Those anniversaries are just so much for our bodies and hearts to hold. ❤️
“Her story is not my story”—oof. Such profound grace. Thank you for sharing these beautiful words 💚 (and the tax memes 😂 too real)