My youngest kiddo turned 18 yesterday, and I had all the feels. I thought about their birth, how there was a late April snowstorm when I was in labor, the roads slick with snow and ice, and then when I came out of the hospital the next day with a beautiful blue-eyed baby in my arms, the world had bounced joyfully into spring, and red tulips, purple hyacinths, and pink magnolia bloomed everywhere, a rainbow of beauty.
Last night, I was watching ANATOMY OF A FALL, and there’s a scene near the end of the movie where the main character carries her son up to bed. He is almost too big for her to carry, but she manages, his long limbs dangling across her body, and I thought, when was the last time I carried my youngest kiddo to bed? There must have been a last, that final time when I could still lift them, when they clung to me, hot and panting in sleep, and I carried them to bed, tucked them in, kissed their forehead. It happened, I know, but I don’t know the day that it changed. I don’t know The Last.
It made me sad that something so monumental passed so quietly and I didn’t even notice.
Change, I think, is like that. It happens quietly, slowly, and then all of a sudden, we look around and think “How did I get here? This is an entirely new place.”
Last month, my son moved into his first apartment. One morning we had our same routine where we navigated around each other, both of us cranky, both of us fatigued by routine and each other’s presence.
That day, he moved out.
The next morning, I had coffee alone. I missed my son’s presence, his orneriness, and I realized, our relationship had changed forever. When he comes back, he won’t be back as my young kiddo, my struggling teen, he’ll come back as a young man who lives on his own, who no longer needs to answer to me. It is beautiful and painful at the same time.
But that’s how change is, isn’t it, beautiful and painful? And change is happening all the time, even when we don’t notice it.
I’ve started packing up things. I’m selling my sweet house and moving to the lake with my fiancé. This is a good move. A great change in my life. And I am also sad to leave this place, to embrace the next chapter in my novel of a life. You can want change, need it, be ready for it, but it’s still a transition. It’s still stressful. It’s still stepping from the comfortable known to the wild unknown.
I miss the weight of my children in my arms, and I rejoice in letting them go. I love this house and how it helped me heal, and I will enjoy moving in with my fiancé and starting this new part of my life with a partner who adores me as much as I adore him.
Change is a constant. It is an ebb and flow. It is waves on Lake Michigan. Leaves going from crisp green to fire redyelloworange in the fall. It is winter snowstorms becoming rainbows of flowers. It is dark night, scary shadows, and the golden hour, where everything is illuminated and warm and bright. It is all of this, all at the same time.
I’m trying to lean into change. Acknowledge that all things change: relationships, children, careers, homes, friends, my body, my wants, my goals. I can acknowledge that change is hard and that sometimes it hurts, and I can look forward to the new things that come with change, how I’ll grow, how I’ll age, how the years will bring me more empathy, more wisdom, more strength.
Whatever is changing in your life, I hope you can flow with it and know that though things change, we never lose the moments we’ve lived.
We carry those moments with us, like we have carried our children to bed—their long limbs dangling against our bodies—and we keep the times we’ve lived through snuggled in close to us, warm and safe, tucked in against our beating hearts.
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TANYA EBY sometimes has weird breakfasts. Yesterday it was spinach pizza. Today she had carrot cake and bacon. Tomorrow, she’s thinking about tamales and queso for her 5:30 am repast. If you like what you read here, please consider buying Tanya a non-sweet coffee to go with her weird breakfasts on Venmo (@Tanya-Eby), becoming a paid subscriber, or just sharing this post on social media.
Beautiful, Tanya. ❤️
A beautiful and accurate description of life’s ever present change. Your words should help us all live more consciously every moment.