Draft 2021

Walking out of the craft store today I caught a glimpse of someone. She looked familiar, but wasn't quite who I thought she was. A second look at my reflection, and yes, it was me. I am a middle-aged woman. And it shows. It's funny, I don't think of myself as nearly 50. Good grief, I can remember when my Mom was fifty! But here I am, almost at the top of the hill, ready for the great ride down. And while I remember the climb, it just doesn't seem possible that so much time has passed. I don't think of myself as a mother of adults. But three of my four children are adults. My oldest son is almost the age I was when he was born. My younger son, almost the age I married. My daughter, the same age I was when I started college. How could my baby be 14? I'm not a young mother anymore. My sister is a grandma. My aunts and uncles are all gone, as is my father. My mom is 82. And all of this happened in the blink of an eye. Really. I'm serious. It happene

This afternoon I took a nap. A headache was coming on and my body, ever-achy from my EDS, just needed the rest. And boy, do I feel better now. I woke with renewed energy and well-being. So of course, I vacuumed and dusted, walked the dog, cleaned the windows, folded laundry, mowed the grass, made a batch of jam, and talked on the phone about how busy I am. Right? Nope. Not me. I ate two plums, contemplated what to make for supper, thought about when to do all of the above listed chores, and enjoyed the breeze wafting in my window while I watched the cat try to catch a fly. Wow, what a wasted afternoon, huh? I didn't get anything done. I didn't feel frazzled or pulled a hundred different directions. And I can't brag about how busy I was. Somewhere along the line, our society seems to have come to value busyness for busyness' sake. I could completely rephrase my afternoon activities to make it sound as if I had been busy, busy, busy: I wolfed down two plums at the si

The days are passing quickly. Soon we'll be counting the hours, then the minutes. Another chick is soon to leave the nest, and though I once had someone with only one child tell me that it's got to be so much easier for me when the kids leave because I have more than one, that simply is not the case. Just as each child is an individual, each child holds a place near and dear in my heart. A separate place all their own where I remember the first time I held them, the feel of their fuzzy newborn heads against my shoulder, first foods, first words, first day of school... and on and on. Just as each of my children is unique, so too is my love for them. Each one is precious him or herself. My boys are now grown men, Stephen in grad school and Zachary a senior at Iowa State. Even their leaving each fall still isn't easy. But now my oldest daughter, Sarah, is about to head off to school at UNI. She's going the farthest from home, nearly two hours away. I know many parents