In the beginning, I don’t remember. I don’t remember the beginning of my life, or when I actually starting have my own memories. I have no recollection of meeting my baby sister, although I know that I was sick with a fever on the day she was born. I know that a few months later, when my dad returned from a lengthy overseas trip, I was scared of his new beard. I know that because my parents told me, but I don’t remember.
Photo Credit: My dad
I do remember getting the chicken pox in kindergarten, and I remember sitting in the car while my mother ran into school to pick up a packet of get well wishes from my classmates. I remember floating in the soupy oatmeal bath that alleviated the itch, but only while I was submersed.
I remember leaving my elementary school in November of third grade. My old class sang This Land is Your Land every morning, and my new class was full of strangers.
In the beginning, I was falling head over heels in love. It was just like the movies and books, or I wanted it to be. It wasn’t, and that saddened me. Real relationships are hard, and when you are sixteen and seventeen and eighteen you just can’t put in the work required to make it work. Or at least I couldn’t. I remember the end.
In the beginning, I liked this guy enough. Head over heels hurt, so I walked carefully. We were nineteen, and we learned how to make it work together. We are still learning.
In the beginning, I was nauseated every morning. I threw up and I ate crackers that were supposed to help but didn’t. I remember the beginning of her life, and the beginning of his. They don’t remember, but I can tell them the story.
Parents remember the beginning. As parents remember less, children remember more. My parents are loyal readers of this blog, and each of them has told me that they often learn things about me that they didn’t know. I know that’s a positive thing, but I imagine it makes them a bit sad as well.
It makes me sad. Perhaps a better word would be wistful.
The older I grew, the less time I spent in my parents’ physical presence. My own children are the same; I know that is how it should be. In the beginning, I was the center of their world, and I knew every detail. Now their lives are so full of experiences that don’t include me, and I must rely on their willingness to share. I also rely on the well-established parental prerogative of checking their phones, but often that is much more information than I want to know.
In the beginning, my babies were born. For years, I was an integral part of all of their milestones, and every part in between. In the future, I will be more of a spectator.
I have thought about beginnings and ends for the past few years, as I begin to let go of my hearts. Instead of focusing on the endings, I try to focus on the beginnings, and embrace them for the fresh starts that they can be.
Lovely!
Thanks!
Breathtaking. I think I shed a few tears. And that will be me in ten years! Because we’re twins.
We are 🙂 It will be you, and you will write about it beautifully.
It’s a lovely interpretation of the prompt! I’m going through the change too of not participating in every aspect of my kids’ lives as they move to more extensive playdates and activities outside home! I love that your parents are reading your blog and learning new things about you!
I love that too, Roshni. You are going through a shift in parenting – as kids approached adolescence there’s much more independence. It’s hard to let go though, isn’t it?
Oh how true this is! I hardly remember much of my childhood. But there are so many memories that I hold dear from the first few years of my children. I know that will change; which is one of the reasons I am so grateful to have maintained a blog that documents some of those moments. But as with everything, one ending is another beginning. Your family is about to start another beginning, and oh how wonderful that could be!
I hope it is, Leslie! I just love where we are right now and I will be sad to let it go.
Wow. Dana, this is amazing. I’m not sure whether, at the time, most of us really think about beginnings and ends. They happen and we move on until there comes a time to reflect on them. Our (collectively speaking) lives are so interesting, so complex and so unique yet similar in their own ways. Just…incredible.
Thank you, Kim. I know that I’m getting a little heavy on the mom posts, but that’s just where I am right now. I’m glad you found this relatable anyway – you are right about our lives being so unique and yet similar. The human experience is universal on many levels, I think.
——OOOOOOOO, Dana,
I felt every word inside my bones, sweetheart.
And it’s sad…
but it’s also exciting to give our kids wings…
But I want to clip a them a little, too!!
I want them HOME…not just inside my mind, “HOME.”
So many mixed emotions.
Love from MN.
Mixed emotions, for sure. Thanks for getting it, Kim.
This is beautiful. I remember more than I think I should of my toddler years which makes me think I’m making a lot of shit up (can I say that here?)
As for our children and beginnings and endings, I remember when my kids week babies thinking, “I’ll never be able to let them move out.” But God has a funny way of preparing us for everything, and as my children have hit their milestones…some good, some bad, I have gotten to a place where I’m like, “Ok. I’m ready now. It’s time to be finished with this sh…I mean stuff.”
Your language is fine, here, Sandra. 🙂 And I know exactly what you mean; I am usually ready for the next phase of their childhoods. This phase (graduating high school, going to college) is the first one where I want to put on the brakes. I may feel differently by June or July, but right now I want to slow down time.
My mom also recently told me she didn’t remember something about my childhood that I had written about in a blog post. I hadn’t really thought about the fact that after awhile they forget and we remember, and one day the tides will turn and it will be that way for us and our children.
When Eve was about a week old, and I was all pumped up on post-baby hormones, I remember looking at Eve and crying because one day she would leave me. Right now I really am the center of her world, and she is so much of mine, and it saddens me to think one day it will be so different. But it’s all part of the cycle of living and growing up, I suppose.
Beautiful piece. And funny, because my post for Who I Am is written in a very similar style to part of this post!
Ooh, can’t wait to read! Your posts often make me nostalgic for the time when my kids were Eve’s age – I really enjoy remembering those times.
Passages are not always easy. They aren’t easy when we go through them ourselves and they sure as heck aren’t easy as we watch our kids go through them and we are on the sidelines as, yes, spectators. You have, as you always do with your beautiful writing, given me a new way of looking at life.
Thank you, Mo. It is tough being a spectator on the sidelines, but I also have to remember that my own life continues, and I’m not a spectator in that.
Beautiful! Life has so many beginnings 🙂
It does. Thanks Ashley!
Dana, this reads more like a poetic journey than a free write. It’s the kind of writing that strings a reader along, pulling us around bends and turns we didn’t expect but are so pleased to discover. I’m very glad you published this.
Your comment is poetic, Dana – thank you! I always think of my free writes as random meanderings of my brain, but I like “poetic journey” better.
Wistful indeed. This is just gorgeous. And that photo at the top — could it be any better? Well done.
Thank you Christie!
Beautifully written, Dana. It’s hard to believe that you’re in a writing rut. When you write about something that you love so much, it doesn’t show.
That’s so kind of you to say, Debbie – thank you. I do always end up writing about family when I free write; I suppose it’s just where I feel most comfortable.
Ohhh, but Dana, it’s still so beautiful, and the synchronicity of family through different generations is lovely to behold. I do like reading your memories, and the stories you were told, and the ones which your children will pass down to theirs.
This was a comfy, lovely post. Like a warm sinky-in bath with a good book and a cup of tea. I’m glad you wrote it.
Me too, Lizzi – thank you. Sometimes the posts that almost don’t get written are the ones that are best received.
I really really love this, Dana, and am so glad you linked it up with Finish the Sentence. As I was reading, I wondered whether it was a Jena prompt – I love all of the places this took you. It is sad the things we no longer know about our kids. And our parents. I think that’s part of why the blog community becomes so close – we really convey so much about ourselves and our lives — much more than we would at a soccer game or something with other parents.
Dana, this made me kind of emotional. SO many beginning and then inevitably and even when unspoken, endings.
This was a major journey in one post!
It was, Nina. That’s what happens when I free write. It’s a bit all over the place, but that’s what it’s like in my brain!
This is so eloquent Dana, I’ve been feeling similarly but could never have expressed it so well. I’m a little teary thinking about all of the changes ahead and already feel their pull away from me. It gives me a compassion for my parents and a greater understanding of what they’ve gone through. It doesn’t make it easier though.
So true, Steph. It never occurred to me that my growing up was so emotional for my parents. At each new phase of parenting, I gain a new appreciation of all that they have done for me.
So glad you “just wrote” Dana! So many beautiful truths here that I relate to: “Head over heels hurt…” “Parents remember the beginning.” <3
Thank you, Nix!
…as I begin to let go of my hearts. That’s exactly what they are, pieces of our hearts, and the letting go is hard sometimes. This brought tears to my eyes Dana. Love your words 🙂
Oh, thank you Jenn. I think of my kids as my outside hearts – it is hard to let them go.
I’ve had a lot of endings this week and those always make me think about beginnings as well. This is wonderfully contemplative and echoes a lot of my own feelings right now.
Thanks, Rabia – I’m glad you found this relatable.
Well, I can’t tell you’re in a writing rut… this is beautiful, and so true. Tears pricked my eyes: wistful is the perfect word for this post. I like your focus on beginnings, and I’ve tried to focus on that too… not mourning what is gone, but seizing the opportunities that lie ahead. Keep up the good work (with words and life 😉 )
I’ll try, Julia – thank you! Even though it’s not a good pick, maybe wistful should have been my word of the year…
Beautiful.
Thank you. <3
The writing rut did not come through at all in this post. It’s definitely along the lines of too be continued. Very sweet. I never thought out parents reading our blogs and learning something new about us.
I know your parents read – you should ask them about it!
OH Dana… this is just so beautiful. What a powerful reflection on the seasons of life. You have me thinking about my own now…
I love when you reflect, Chris! You make me think too – isn’t the connection amazing?
Dana, it’s such a blessing to read your words. Your writing here is so sweet and endearing and brought tears to my eyes. You are a true gem, and your family must be so grateful to have you there for the beginnings, the middles, and the ends.
Mandi, now you’ve brought tears to my eyes! Thank you, my friend.
I still think this a great and beautiful and meaningful. I LOVE that first picture, too. Glad you wrote it and published it. I get the writing rut so much. I am very glad to have backed off all the linkups I was doing, but this week I almost wrote nothing at all. Sometimes you just have to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and let it flow. It might turn out crappy or it might turn out to be something magical -like this one. 🙂
Thank you, Lisa, and thank you for being a sounding board for me. You are right – we just have to let it flow. Letting it flow (and letting it go) is tough for me, but I’m working on it!
Mesmerizing, where you took this prompt and where it took you. You turned a rut into a dance, and began again.
Jena, your prompts inspire me. The way you introduce them, the way you make me feel like it’s something I can do…it’s hard for me to just sit and write, but you’ve taught me how.
No words. Just a heart singing. xo
Lovely, really enjoyed this post!
Thank you Daisy!
A beautifully written post. I love that you shared such heartfelt thoughts that I imagine all parents at all stages of life experience. Just beautiful.
Thank you, Karen. You and I are both going through some big changes, aren’t we? Different stages, but still.
Aw, Dana I definitely agree that I want to be able to take all in from the beginning here, as well and not forget a minute of it either. Beautifully said and thank you for giving me some hope this morning 😉
Thanks Janine! Hope everyone is on the mend at your house.
I love this. That is all.
Thank you. xoxo
Oh Dana, this was gorgeous. I wish I could “just write” like this! I’m still in my rut, started writing and ended up in a “Carpool Karaoke” video rabbit hole. I love that your parents are learning new things about you! And your kids will some day too. It’s all right here…
I went down the Carpool Karaoke rabbit hole yesterday too, but fortunately I had already written this post. Thank you for your lovely comment – I’m glad you enjoyed this! I almost didn’t publish it.
Oh Dana, you are going through an interesting time. Change is afoot. This was beautifully written. I was startled to learn that you were in a writing rut … Truly.
Change is afoot…I know you know it well, Kelly. I’ll get through it, right?