Where I Am Supposed To Be

I tucked both thumbs into the pant leg and scrunched it up back and forth with my fingers until I could slip her foot in. As I led her foot through the hole, my mind flashed back to the many times in my childhood when she would scrunch up my tights and slide my foot in before helping me shimmy them up my legs. She always arranged the seem just so because otherwise I would complain endlessly about the way it rubbed my toes. She smiles at me, saying thank you without uttering a word and I wheel her out to the kitchen. My soul exhales. This is exactly where I am supposed to be.

I am stuck in the in-between phase of life, acting as a caregiver for the two generations I am sandwiched between. Sometimes, the sandwich feels cozy and dependable. I know they need me, and I know I can provide. The sandwich is snug, but I can still move about. Other times, I feel suffocated. Both sides pressing in on me and requiring so much attention, care, patience, and emotional energy that I feel completely inadequate. I cannot do this.

I tuck both thumbs into the sock and scrunch it up back and forth with my fingers until I can slip his foot in. The chubby toes press into the bottom, and I gently pull the sock around the heel and up his soft calf. I kiss his forehead and hand him his shoes to put on while I grab a baseball bat and glove and make my way to the car. He looks up at me and smiles an easy smile. My soul exhales. This is exactly where I am supposed to be.

I glanced at a picture the other day of my mom holding my oldest as a baby. He was chubby in her arms, like a meatball with legs and they both smiled the biggest smiles. I look at her in that picture and see strong capable legs, arms effortlessly holding a wiggly body, a face full of life and a head full of hair. I see who she was and in that moment my eyes well up with tears and I bite my cheek to force them back down. I miss her so much.

The hardest part about all of it is reimaging the future you already dreamt up. It’s like anything we do in life where the reality doesn’t quite meet the expectation we’d hoped for. You assess, you adjust, you make a new plan, and you move forward. But the moving forward sometimes means wading through a river; you walk along just fine for awhile but then the sand gives way beneath your feet and the current takes you off course. You stand up, gain your footing, and start again. It’s a blessing to get the chance to keep going and a curse of never knowing when you’ll get knocked down again.

I tuck both thumbs into the leg of my pantyhose and scrunch it up back and forth with my fingers until I can slip my foot in the nylon casing. I pull them up my legs and shimmy them over my hips before putting my dress on and walking downstairs. The seem at the bottom slides under my toes and I bend to adjust it, stretching the fabric enough to quiet the tingling claustrophobia creeping up my throat. I fill up a mug with coffee and kiss three sweet heads before leaving for work. Sometimes the simple routine of the morning is all I need to feel a sense of normalcy and peace. This is exactly where I am meant to be.

I was at the farm the other day and peeked around the corner to see my two-year-old playing with my mom. She sat in her wheelchair while he patted her legs, and she tried to catch his hands in hers. He will never remember what she was like before she was sick. He will never know that after his first year of life she could not rock him to sleep or take him to the playground. But if nothing else, he will see the way she smiled at him and feel the love in her eyes every time he sees one of the hundreds of pictures, I have captured of them. At some point he will be older, and he will think he remembers her on his own because of all the stories we’ve told him.

In each moment that we experience, I find myself holding on tightly to the here and now. I try to catch myself when I’m avoiding the present and put the phone down, A wise woman once told me to “cherish the precious present” and I remind myself of that daily. I listen more intently to the giggles and take a mental image of the smiles for my memory bank. I sit in each moment, even the brief action of getting dressed, and let my mind travel to all of the memories the moment stirs up. They are all good memories, and I know I am lucky to be able to say that.

-T-