Finding Joy in the Off-Season
When my son was two he wanted to build a snowman. He kept pointing to the mountain near our home and insisting to go. It was August. We piled in the car and headed up. We found some spots of snow, that summer melt that is both hard and wet. It wasn’t much but we managed a tiny snowman. And our son was elated. And you know what? We kind of were too.
When he was six he suddenly became fascinated with the sea, especially tidepool creatures. Since we live near the sea, that seemed pretty easy. What wasn’t easy was that it was January. The middle of winter. The thought of heading to the beach in the wind and rain didn’t thrill me but when I looked up the tides I was excited to see several very low tides coming up. Did you know that tides are lowest in winter because we are tilted toward the moon? January is an especially good time to observe all kinds of sea creatures. Up until then, I had never been to the beach in winter. We walked for hours and saw countless squishy, slimy critters. It was magical.
When my kids grew up I assumed it would be a time for me to really dig into my career. They would not need me so much and I would really turn my attention to building my teaching career. Off I went to get my master’s degree and teaching certificate. But one thing after another kept pulling me back to my home and my family. In order to give the time and support needed at home, I took part-time gigs and then turned to substitute teaching. Last year I had two grandchildren born and both have needed my attention and support in big ways. I have given up teaching altogether. I find myself at 50 being a grandmother, not working, and living a life that I think most people live in their 60’s or 70’s. And you know what? It is bliss.
As much as I want to say that I am a free-thinker who colors outside the lines, the reality is that I am pretty much a rule follower. I find comfort in the rhythm of the seasons. Going to the beach in the summer, building snowmen in the winter, and working for a period of years, and then taking care of grandchildren in retirement. I like my life to be basically predictable. It is against my grain to be living seemingly out of the season. But when I can let go of those invisible expectations I become enchanted with what is before me. The snowman in summer, the bottom of the sea revealed, the bright faces of my grandchildren. It is magical.
