Going Back

 It’s been 6 years almost to the day, that we moved from Oak Park, IL to Minnetonka, MN.  Six whole years.

I remember when we first moved.  We hugged neighbors that had become family and promised to keep in touch and visit as much as we could.  Then we moved and one of our children was so traumatized that it was recommended that we didn’t visit.  It might be a trigger and be too much. So we waited.  Then Covid hit and all bets were off.  One night a few months ago I remembered that MEA break was coming up.  Let’s search rentals, I suggested.  We found the perfect location, within walking distance to everything we loved about our village.  We booked it.  Then covid got worse again and it feels strange and not perfect to visit now, but when will it ever?

We were driving home from the cabin this last weekend when we started talking about our upcoming trip to Chicago.  “What would you want to do and see? What do you remember?”  The children rambled off lists of excursions.  “The aquarium, millennium park! Maggie Daley, the Botanic Gardens!”  ALL things that Ian did alone with the kids on Saturday mornings while I would get my 5 minutes peace.  

I was devastated. We stopped at the grand rapids brewery as is our new tradition and as we waited for our flat breads and nachos I sobbed. Ian grabbed my hand and told the children “mom is OK!” but am I? What was the purpose of my life those eight years if not to pour myself into my children.

Don’t you want to see the bakery that I walked to every Tuesday to get bread for the week?  The splash pad we spent all summer at?  The library we went to every story time at? Musikgarten, where we spent a small fortune instilling the love of rhythm and harmony into your tiny bones?  Surely you remember Pilgrim where I walked you to school each morning, Rehm Park right up the street where I spent countless hours trying to keep Ainsley from running over the bridge and Louise simultaneously in the sand pit.  How about the parks? Approximately 7 within walking distance where I planned play dates and we spent our mornings meeting up with friends?  The Trader Joe’s where we were known so well that when I stopped going in they asked Mom if I’d had my baby.  I had! Felix!  

You could see my tears welling and Ian spoke about the impact that I had made in our home. That little 1200 square-foot space where I hunkered in with our three children and made the beginning of our life together. There were so many days spent within those walls. Especially in the cold Chicago winters. We would orchestrate whole day extravaganzas. Tea parties where we would write invitations to our stuffed animals, then bake the treats, then set up the table. Then dress the part, then set the tone with music and lighting and enjoy the whole afternoon after a labor of a hard days work.  There were sick days and rainy days or cold days where we would find ways to spend our days fully and beautifully together. I cried at the brewery remembering the poignancy of those years. Even while they were happening I knew how special they were and I knew that I would never experience the like of them again. And here I am with two almost teenagers and I’m glad that I knew what I had when I had it.

Today I was looking at the rental with the children. They are all so confused the concept of a 2 flat. “But it looks like a house mom”, “I know, but it’s a house that separated into two different apartments. We’ll be staying on the top floor while someone else lives on the bottom floor”. I can’t wait to see the reaction to this home away from home. See what their souls remember of the first years of their lives. My soul aches for the time that we had there.  I can only be thankful for knowing what I had when I had it.

In 37.5 and completely in the thick of it.  I am so melancholy about the passing of time and so over the brim grateful too.  My children get to see where they were born this weekend.  They get to ride the trains and walks the sidewalks where they began their journey on this earth. I get to look in my husband’s steely blue eyes and remember how we started.  All alone, for 6.8 whole years.  We did it.  And here we are today, more in love, more hopeful than I ever could have imagined.

Oak Park, here, we, come.

Indeed

 Have you ever rewatched a movie and really watched it?  I’m guilty of turning something, anything familiar, on while I knit or fold laundry just to have it on in the background, and not really pay attention. But tonight I was craving an oldie and decided my girls could watch with.  I chose Sleepless in Seattle.  I have it on VHS, of all formats, because it was 10 cents at the thrift shop and I happen to have not one, but TWO working VHS players, because I can’t risk not having a working one.

I told the girls that it was a romantic comedy and they had no clue what that meant.  As typical for a 1990 film, it’s rated PG but would definitely classify as PG-13 today.  Most innuendoes went right over Louise’s head and Ainsley shot me knowing looks at least 4 times.

I LOVE 90’s rom coms.  Favorites include, It Could Happen to You, Only You, You’ve Got Mail, One Fine Day, While You Were Sleeping, French Kiss.  I could truly watch them over and over again.  But tonight I really watched.  Saw how Meg Ryan slayed in swept back casual updos and oversized floor length frocks. How Tom Hanks was SO DAMN RELATABLE when he snuggled his son and talked to a completel stranger therapist on the radio about how perfect his dead wife was.  I cried at new parts.  I nearly sobbed, not when Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks finally met, but when Sam ran frantically out of the Empire State Building Elevator to find his son Jonah who had somehow (pre- 9/11) flown solo from Seattle to New York in search of the perfect new mother, Annie.

I married a film snob.  Ian would be the first to admit he loves a good rotten tomatoes rating and subtitles.  I can do that.  I can appreciate a great film.  I can also think great films come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes rewatching an old favorite just feeds your soul.  It’s like going back to a familiar coffee shop on vacation or that same study space in college.  It fits, and feels so good.

This fall we don’t have much time for movies.  Two of my children need to be awoken at 6 for school and one has dance 8 hours a week.  I feel overwhelmed and so grateful all at once.  I discovered a new trick this past week.  I try to put myself in my kids shoes.  How excited are they for TWO SPORTS AT ONCE?! How happy are they that they finally get private lessons in the instrument they love AND double the dance classes with their best friends and favorite teachers?  How great is it to try something new with big middle school and high school kids?  How great is it to be busy doing things we love?

If I had my real way I’d live in a small town in an old tiny house with a half fridge and an ancient stove.  I’d have a cow to milk, and sheep to sheer, and chickens to gather eggs from.  I’d live in a town with one Main Street, a general store like the one in Anne Of Green Gables that you could get anything at.  But I don’t live there. I live here.  Less than a 1/2 mile from my childhood home, a 7 minute walk from my 7th graders 1500+ student middle school.  

I’m happy here on my 1/2 acre.  My middle sister across the street, my oldest and youngest sisters across town.  My mom and dad 10 minutes away, our family cabin a mornings drive north.  Lakes everywhere you turn, and love within these 4 walls.

It’s a good life indeed.