balancing act

I find that phrase to be so very descriptive. It seems like such an act that appearance of balance. And such an enigma the achievement of balance. It suggests that it is all about time and its finite nature.

In our three moves in thirteen months we have successfully pared down our belongings to what we really want to keep. I tagged furniture that does not fit in or with our new house and offered it to my friend who is moving out this way. I packed up the Madame Alexander dolls that I collected through my girlhood and saved to give to my daughter (who had no interest as a little girl) and sent them to an old friend who collects dolls. Thomas posted all his beer making equipment for free on our neighborhood Nextdoor site. And, we loaded Kiel's childhood dresser in the car and drove to Connecticut this past week-end. All of this a bittersweet shedding of things.

Because it was Memorial Day week-end traffic was a bear getting up to Connecticut. We were tense and cranky with each other by the time we hit the Connecticut state line. And then...we were greeted with the reason we made this move in the first place. All the frustration with sitting in stop-and-go traffic for seven and a half hours melted away. We saw Tala take some of her first steps without help looking zombie-like with her arms outstretched for balance and a proud smile on her face. She said Lala and Papa when she saw us. Like the end of labor all was forgotten except for the gift of her presence.

The dresser was not the only reason we drove this time. Thomas packed his tools into the back of the car to help Kiel and Carly with some home improvement projects. That meant I was on toddler duty while they worked hard to transform the dingy laundry area into a real laundry room. Here is where balance comes in. Every time I am with my granddaughter there is a point when I cannot wait for nap time to come. There is a tediousness to keeping her away from the stairs and walking up and down the block and constantly trying to determine what she needs when she cries. And yet, I am acutely aware that the moment we leave Connecticut to go home I will feel a longing to be with her again. There is the moment that she lets us know that nap time is over and I think 'my break is over' with a little bit of dread. Then I go into her room to take her out of the crib and she says "Lala" with a smile. A peak experience every single time.

I am so aware of how swiftly this is all changing. Parents know that intellectually, but grandparents feel it in their old and wise bones. As we drive away I am thinking of how long it will be until I see her again. I also think about how great it will be to get home and live my quiet, predictable, well-rested life. So that is how I have come to think of balance. Both are true and real and important, and I can hold them both at the same time. I am constantly readjusting, deciding in the moment what is important to cherish and what is important to let go of. All the while, time is passing and reminding me to stay present, to notice, to just be and to seize every sacred experience.