When I was in eighth grade, finishing out the middle school chapter of my educational journey, my father was beginning a chapter of his own.
After a year of taking Greek language classes at a Presbyterian seminary in Colorado Springs, he drove to St. Louis to move into a dorm with other middle-aged men who were away from their families (they nicknamed their home "Fossil Hall") and continue on with Hebrew coursework and the rest of his ministerial studies.
Eventually my mom, myself, and two brothers still living at home would follow, but for a year we were separated with occasional visits during the holidays and school breaks.
***
Just this morning I saw a friend's post on Facebook -- a picture of his children eating on a picnic blanket outside. The photo immediately made me remember the picnics we used to have during that year that my dad was far away, and I couldn't help but think that my friend's children will cherish this picnic memory forever.
I would post a picture of one of my own eighth grade picnics, but to be honest I don't even know if it's in my bedroom at the moment or in storage. (So in its place you get a picture of my mom and grams and I at my alma mater, circa 2001).
So I suppose I'll have to use my words.
In the year that my dad was beginning school, my family remained behind in Colorado so we could sell our house, so my mom could continue working to support us financially, and so my brothers and I wouldn't have to, yet, be pulled from our school district nor I from my last year of confirmation classes at church.
We knew all along that we would eventually be moving into a much smaller space in Missouri, with limited storage space (interestingly enough, in all our moves over the years, it was only until just very recently that our beloved foosball table finally left our family forever. Priorities.), so one of the first things we did was host a garage sale where we sold our big sectional couch.
I'm pretty sure a plastic lawn chair came to fill the new living room void, and beanbag chairs from Nintendo Quarter in the basement were probably dragged upstairs as well. And really, I think we did a lot of our after school TV watching on the floor. We didn't care, we were kids watching TV. You could have sat us at a classroom desk and we would have still contentedly fought over whether we were going to watch Full House or fly fishing footage (yes, this is what my older bro of 15 years of age chose to view. And we wonder why he's become a birdwatcher today. Brewers are born as old souls, I'm convinced).
While we frequently ate at the dinner table, we weren't unallowed to eat in the living room, but to protect our carpets, Mom had us lay down beach towels as giant placemats.
So for several nights that year, we sat in line on our brightly colored magic carpets, the milk glasses aligned on the fireplace hearth to avoid spillage, and together we watched Whose Line is it, Anyway?.
Over time I convinced my family to watch 7th Heaven with me, and my mom really grew attached to the characters. If memory serves, she wept at the sweetness in the episode when the twins were born and declared Ruthie to be her favorite.
***
There have been a million shifts and turns and adjustments in our lives since that year -- wow, TWENTY TWO YEARS AGO -- and in seeing my friend's post this morning I am reminded that we have survived all of them and that I can get through all the hectic details of my present life.
Because things will change.
And I can find a way in the now.
My dear, precious parents no doubt struggled the most in that year apart from each other, adjusting to a new shared income, seeing each other only every few months, working or studying full time, and simply not having each other in the same space to work through things together.
But Dad came home for Christmas and drove to Manhattan, Kansas to surprise us during spring break. When his school year was finally over, Mom got a job in Missouri and moved into Dad's dorm as Dad came back to Colorado to be with his crazy children for the summer.
It was a lot. Life often is. But they found a way. We all did.
No place to sit and balance a dinner plate on your lap?
No problem. Just fluff out a magic carpet and ride that windy wave through the atmosphere until you land.
Sending love to all of you who are deep in transition, or feel stuck in a feeling of this is forever. And sending love to those of you who are content. May we all serve each other in this time, with our resources, our empathy, our resilience and our humor and enjoyment in each other.
Ride that windy wave. Notice the breeze. And trust in a changed future.
Xox,
Bailey & Max
