Time has a peculiar way of reminding us of its relentless pace. While some days stretch on, the weeks seem to fly by. It’s not just the whirlwind of back-to-school routines or the barrage of work deadlines; it’s in the small yet profound moments—like the way Mia raises an eyebrow in curiosity or declares something to be “just strange,” casting a quick glance around to gauge our reactions. Meanwhile, Oliver retreats into his world of emotions intertwined with video games, and Zoe thrashes about in her sleep, limbs akimbo in her pajamas, as new angles of her face emerge with each passing day.
I often resist the notion that aspects of our lives are preordained, or that the paths I once vowed to avoid are now inescapable. My desire is to seize control, to create a semblance of order amidst the chaos. I yearn for mornings where I have a clear plan for packed lunches, what to wear, and how to prepare for the day ahead. Yet, the more I strive for this calm certainty, the more the days unravel, and with every commitment I accept, something else inevitably falls by the wayside.
“Wait, you won’t be there to see me earn my new belt?” Zoe’s disappointment is palpable.
“No, I’ll be there Saturday for the testing, but I might miss the ceremony on Monday,” I respond, trying to sound resolute. Inside, I wrestle with frustration. How did I lose control of my own schedule?
A glance at my calendar reveals a chaotic array of commitments, each marked in purple—lines slicing through the tidy squares, overlapping and chaotic. It’s overwhelming, and the thought of scaling back seems impossible.
Last weekend, amidst the few remaining free days of the year, we embarked on a trip to Boston. We planned for just one night, but the kids, in a phase of frequent car sickness, meant a four-hour drive there and back within a single day. I reserved a hotel room outside the city, loaded the car with anti-nausea medication, snacks, and wrestled with my frustration at being tied to a schedule I helped create.
In the backseat, the kids were buzzing with excitement. “Will we see skyscrapers?” “Can we eat out?” “Does the hotel have a pool?” Their questions created a comforting soundtrack as I slipped into autopilot, responding with a mix of “yes,” “maybe,” and “we’ll see.” My instinct to please and manage the day kept me going.
As we drove, I played a movie for the children. They snuggled together, limbs intertwined, while I leaned against the window, lost in nostalgia. Memories of road trips from my childhood surfaced—the bittersweet moments with family, the stunning views along the way, and the quiet tears that sometimes accompanied the journey.
I wondered what memories my children would take from this trip. Would they remember my worries about hotel costs? Their dad’s excitement for the boat races? Or wearing matching shirts? Then Briar looked at me, tilting her head and silently mouthing, “You know I love you, right?” I stifled a mix of emotions that threatened to spill over.
“Yes, I do, my sweet.”
The trip unfolded beautifully, filled with laughter and adventure. I let go of my concerns about how they might remember it and embraced the day as it came. The hotel indeed had a pool, and we experienced unforgettable moments, including a fantastic lifeguard.
As we made our way home through New Hampshire and Vermont, we stopped at a charming café in Bethel, where the children marveled at the view of the falls. Surprisingly, there were no complaints or fussiness—just us enjoying a simple meal, laughing and sharing stories.
Upon arriving at the parking lot, the kids wanted to climb a retaining wall. Normally, I would have hurried them along, but this time, we let them play. Briar called out, “Dad, catch me!” as their father captured the moment with the camera. I felt a pang of nostalgia as I realized our experiences had shifted; we no longer caught them in the same way, but we had taught them to catch themselves.
As the memories, dreams, and precious emotions swirled within me, I was reminded of a fundamental truth: it’s not about how things turn out that matters most. The essence of it all is simply that we are together.
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