Saying Goodbye

The season has certainly shifted around here. We are in the midst of our first snow up here in New England, and everything is blanketed in white. (These pictures were taken at the beginning of the week, the last playground hurrah before snow!) There is a quiet hush, at least for now. The past few weeks have held this quality for us as well, the calm before the storm. It’s safe to say however, that after this past week, the storm is officially here.

We spent the past week (and I’m sure we’ll spend the next two) saying goodbye. But the thing about goodbye, is that it is so hard to say… Children often feel this the most. When leaving a beloved place, or friend, it can be just too hard. So we say, “See you later!”  and,  “We love you!” but not the G word. That’s how it feels leaving our home of the past 8 years, our neighborhood, and the friends we have made here. We said that this week to another dear friend. Our kitty of the past 13 years, my kitty. She passed on from this earth, on to her next journey. As we have been discussing with E what this means we have drawn reference from this book, and we like to say she is back to being in the stars, until she decides what life she will choose next here on Earth. It’s comforting to think of goodbye this way. As not an end but a transformation. Not a finite thing, but a new twist on the road of this everlasting journey. It’s still hard. Hard to leave, hard to change, and hard to know that the beautiful thing we have loved is passing on to someone or somewhere new.

This momentary quite repose is so beautiful, perhaps because, it is oh so fleeting.

Pause. Breathe. Repeat.

so much of parenting is just like birth…

riding waves,

the ups and downs,

ins and outs,

of meeting your child where they are at,


but not too hard.

When the deepest pain of labor sets in,

the tantrums, the sleepless nights and tired afternoons,

the heartache of their sorrow, and yours

the knowing that these moments are endless and yet passing far too fast…

Pause. Breathe. Repeat.

Again and again until the wave crashes down over you,

slides towards shore,

and laps back against your well worn body.

Your body that knows this,

knows just how to handle this.

Your body, not your mind.

Your body knows to dig your feet into the sand

steady yourself

loosen your grip

invite movement

roll with it

protect your head

EMbrace yourself and your child

and then stand up laughing.

Sure maybe your licking salt off your face, or theirs…

tear stained cheeks never made anyone less beautiful.

Pause. Breathe. Repeat.

Riding waves, giving birth, parenting these beings brought to you…

it’s all one in the same.