Yes. I do believe I do. I feel more "me" than I have felt in a very long time. I think I'm finally ready to let my fingertips do the talking and see if I can hear the deepness of my thoughts that haven't had the opportunity to find their way to my consciousness.
As I have been walking through my morning, I keep hearing Mom's voice in my thoughts. I miss being a daughter. The last year of Mom's life, I believe I went to see her as often as I did so I could be mothered, hear what she had to say and just lean in and take in all I could.
Mom knew me better than I knew myself. She knew I had to close my daycare. She was wary when I switched my vocation from child care to senior care. She knew ...
A wise friend of mine once wrote about the contrasts between caring for the young who are becoming more independent with each step forward verses caring for those who are on the opposite end of the spectrum and becoming more dependent as time progresses.
While children may sap one's energy physically, there is a mental fatigue that comes with investing one's time solely with their senior counterparts.
There is a joyfulness in children I often described as "heaven on earth" moments when I had my daycare. In equal comparison, there is an inner child within my more senior friends who light up like a Christmas tree when reminiscing and talking about the good old days.
One of my favorite things was watching children at play while they had no idea I was watching. The fly-on-the-wall moments. Innocence. Imagination. Their unique ways of taking in the moments. The moments wonder. Listening to children using good manners without an adult prompting them. The moments were precious and plentiful. One just had to stop and take notice of them when they happened.
One of my favorite things while spending time with my senior companions is when they get lost in the retelling of the stories of their past. Their eyes glisten and shine. Their posture changes. There is an energy from within that lights them up and rolls back the years. They have so much wisdom to share. So many stories. There is a history within them begging to be told.
There is a space between the day-to-day repetitive nature of child and senior caring and those moments of joy that is hard. It was those times when I ran out to Mom's to escape the increasing pressure of of maintaining my equilibrium. I needed to place some distance my day-to-day life and drive off to spend time with my lifeline. My mom.
I have missed running out to see Mom. I have missed being "daughtered". I have a supportive group of friends and family that would keep me standing throughout any storm. But I have missed distancing my day-to-day life from a place where I can go to recharge and rejuvenate myself.
I believe I have finally found my way back "home". Again.
I haven't felt this certain about the next right step for quite some time. I have not felt the yearning desire to leave this oasis I call home to go anywhere for a very, very long time.
Something has changed.
This little gem is a weekend getaway for now. A potential place to call home when I retire.
I haven't looked forward in anticipation for longer than I can remember. I lost my dream gene. Every little piece of the puzzle has fit together in a way to make this new dream possible. I have felt Mom and Dad's nod of approval every step of the way.
When I was a nine year old child, I vividly remember sobbing uncontrollably when we drove off our farm in the hills in Saskatchewan to head off to our new lives in Edmonton. I vowed to myself, "I'm going to grow up, become a teacher and move back to our home town".
I didn't become a teacher but I do believe my inner child is completely satisfied with the reality of moving to small town Saskatchewan. Not the same small town I dreamed of as a child. But close. So very close.
No comments:
Post a Comment