I wrote earlier that we had gone out to California for my 40th high school reunion and as is our usual practice, we tacked on a boondoggle. I'm using that word because I love saying it. It's so much fun to say out-loud. Boondoggle. I'm using the word incorrectly though, we didn't actually go on a boondoggle, nonetheless, I just want to use that word. For even though what we did was not a waste of time or money--it wasn't exactly a necessary excursion either. Well, I guess that's a matter of opinion. My husband and I thought it was important. And that's all the reason we needed.
We flew in a couple of days early and booked a room over near the coast. It was awesome--driving along Highway 1, listening to our favorite music, singing loudly, and stopping for lunch. We had a blast. We decided to drive into Sonoma Dunes where we used to take our 3 children camping. I should have stopped the reminiscing then. I should have listened to that little voice in my head that said--whoa danger, stop now! But, I didn't. We kept on. Driving by all the little restaurants and shops, all of our old haunts, all of our memories stretching out there before me. Only this time, we were all alone. Our kids weren't with us. They were no longer 8 or 10 or 12 years old. Nope, now they're old married people with little ones of their own. Now they're making their own memories. Without us.
I was actually doing pretty well--just waxing a little nostalgic here and there--and then we did something that I wish we hadn't, but you know what they say about hindsight. We parked in front of this beat up little shack of a store and went inside. I had no intension of buying anything, but I just wanted to go in and see what they now carried as far as souvenirs. And that's when it happened--I began to feel tears spring to my eyes, I gulped a big gulp of air, tried to clear my throat and then realized that I needed to get out of that store as quickly as possible.
So this is what truly happened and yes, I already know that I am going to sound weird, but seriously, it felt so real at the time. As I was walking through that little store, it felt as though I had gone back in time with my kids--shopping for seashells, and rocks, and plastic toys. I could hear them asking for things--mom, can I have this? Mom, I need a new hoodie, oh look mom, how cute, can I have it? Each aisle I went down I could hear them. Their little voices so very long ago echoed through that room. Mom, mom, mom.
I had to leave. I had to get out of there fast. I sat in our car, looking for a napkin to wipe my eyes only to find an empty glovebox--as we were in a rental car. My husband jumped in beside me and wondered what had happened--had the lady been rude? Was I feeling OK? And how was I supposed to answer his questions? No, I'm not OK, I miss my kids, I miss our vacations, I miss them being little, I miss buying the seashells and t-shirts, and I wish I had bought them more! Is that what I was supposed to say? Well, whether I should have said it or not, I did say that. All of it. And I think he understood, because he just sat there and listened to me and he let me cry.
A few minutes later he started up the car, and we just drove along the coast. I told him that I didn't ever want to do that again--go into the little shops where we used to take our kids. I told him that we were going to have to make some new memories--new places to visit, shop and eat. Talk about an emotional day. I'll have to be more careful next time. I've learned a very valuable lesson and also something important concerning my own personality.
Yes, it was an unsettling day. Hearing their voices, remembering the things we bought, seeing where we used to camp, the beaches we used to play on, the walks we used to take. It was hard. And I'm not sure I liked it at all. It's something though that I'll have to process. Others might bury it, but I'm not like that. One day I will lay all those emotions out on the table and look over them and examine them one by one. I have to make sure that the timing is just right though. Not too soon, not too late--just right. I'll lay them out and pray over them and I'll know that as I look, God will heal my heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment