The "In-Between" Season

This year kind of feels like a big deal.

Not just because of a major birthday, but because so many things seem to be shifting at once. Day-by-day, life transforms in thousands of incremental changes until, suddenly, you're standing in a completely foreign place, unrecognizable to one you occupied not so long ago.

Been spending a lot of time with my daughter lately, practicing driving, checking out colleges, talking about what's next, telling her to slow down, envisioning her future dorm room, wondering what her roommate will be like, telling her to slow down, and picturing what life will look like in a year-and-a-half, when she's not home every day. (The fact that much of our time in the car consists of me telling her to slow down, is not lost on me. It's going so fast.)

Feelings are a rollercoaster right now. On one hand, I'm happy for her. I want her to go out and experience new things, build her own life, become who she will be. But I'm also starting to feel the big, empty space she's going to leave behind… before she's even gone. And I wonder how that'll feel. I wonder what to do with all that time. And how quiet it will be.

All. The. Time.

Going through this now helps me really experience the times we still do have together, because I'm acutely aware that it won't last. I'm in savoring mode.

And I think about this house itself. This is where she grew up. There are huge moments (finding out she existed, bringing her home), ordinary days (reading books on the couch with a fire, putting our BBQ together… together), and little routines (stories before bed, planting jellybeans in the backyard for Easter) that have become the background of our lives.

I've put a lot into this home… time, money, energy, pieces of myself, entire weekends socializing only with my power tools… and now, it feels like a member of the family. Not just where we keep our stuff, but something with its own unique personality. I think houses carry things besides furniture, toys and people. They hold our memories, our energy. The essence of the people who live inside them.

This house holds our story.

And when she goes off to start her own story, this place will still be here, keeping this part for her. Holding the version of her that grew up in its walls, waiting for her to come back… whether its for Thanksgiving or Christmas, or just a weekend back home because she just needs to be here for a while… be back in that story. This is something I'm holding onto, right now, still in the "before."

And still, I'm starting to think about what the next chapter looks like for me. Wanting to get a jump on what I'd do in retirement, real estate has become part of that next chapter. It's something I am building myself that challenges me, takes me WAY OUT of all of my many comfort zones, connects me with people and gives me a sense of purpose outside of being "mom." And bonus: It's also a way for me to support my daughter as she heads into her own new phase. And that really gives this new adventure meaning. Fillling empty space not with "busyness," but with something that fulfills me.

I guess this is all just part of getting older. Being in that space where things don't feel quite settled, but I still feel like I'm moving forward, toward… something.

So, no big epiphanies yet… just lots of thoughts rolling around in there. I think this "in-between" place, full of pride, uncertainty, excitement and, yes, even some sadness, is something I need to keep paying attention to. Not rush. I'll keep telling her to slow down, and she'll keep going ahead at full velocity anyway.

And that's just the way it should be.