August, September, and October are my favorite months of the year here in the Midwest. Summer has reached its abundance and already the Sun is beginning to shift. The crickets chirp throughout the night and nights are often cool enough for open windows. The sounds of the crickets and the occasional freight train in the distance stirs memories and feelings of my earliest years. The nostalgic part of me revels in in. And yet...
And yet, all of Nature's whispers from the past haunt me. I am reminded of my mortality, and I resent it. I fear it. I fear death. I feel like I am running out of time, and indeed I am.
Still, I treasure the night...the silence and the solitude. It is the only time I feel like I have arrived into the time of my life I once looked forward to: my kids are grown; my time is my own.
Twist of fate. Since Christina died, I feel more compelled to mother: my grown children AND my grandchildren. But then the paradoxical desire for solitude. I want my solitude so that I can enjoy each of my grandchildren, one at a time, so that I can indulge in their unique individuality. Instead, I get them in bunches where they become, in my eyes, "the kids." And that's not fair. It's not fair to them and it's not fair to me. But with two grandchildren living in my household (or, do I live in their household), I am never afforded the privilege of experiencing them at my discretion, one at a time. And I resent that.
And another freight train blows its whistle as it approaches and I am reminded, painfully, that life is short. There is no time for resentment, frustration, and sadness. And yet, tonight (and lately), I am consumed by those three Fates.
Tonight, I struggle with the profound sadness of losing Christina and unsuccessfully fight back the tears. I don't want to repeat mistakes and build regrets. I want to enjoy the moments of life. But I can't. Instead, I see just the demands: dishes that need to be done, towels that need to be washed - and then folded and put away, and all the other endless mundane stuff associated with maintaining an orderly home environment. My resentment...it's also about wanting to play. I just want to play. I want to feel the way I did when I was a child...when there were minimal demands on my time. Each day was a journey of spontaneous activities. Today, each day begins with a To-Do List...and fatigue.
Tonight I feel the anxious pain of dissatisfaction. I love the people in my life...my family, my tribe, my clan. But I resent my lack of solitude, my lack of quiet, my lack of personal space. Surely they must all sense that.
I am running out of time. Still, as I have for decades, I continue to fantasize about a sacred place, all my own. I continue to long for something that is uniquely mine. And I fear going to my grave having never achieved it.
So tonight, I remind myself that above all, I must be firm in my authenticity. I must simply give in to being who I am, rather than feel compelled to meet everyone else's needs and wants. So what, that I sleep throughout the day and am most awake through the night hours? So what?! It's who I am, right now. I cannot be what I am not. I have learned to trust my gut, but lately I've been ignoring that inner voice. More frustration and resentment results. So tonight, I remind myself and encourage myself to just BE. This is ME, like it or not.
