Preparation is no innoculation
Brighton Beach, Diana+It's the first day of school in NYC today. I know we're behind many parts of the country, but even so, I haven't said good-bye to summer yet. I haven't made my peace with fall. Usually the sweltering heat and humidity make it easy to bid summer farewell, but we haven't had much of those this year. Just a lot of delicious days and lazy adventures. My girl, who must have grown a foot over the summer, goes to First Grade today, and a year from now the little one will go with her. I trimmed their hair last night so Amelia's has a cute little flip in the back, and they are wearing matching navy dresses with pleated skirts--British school uniforms my aunt and uncle brought back to them from England.
I've always thought there was a way in which you could prepare for events, for days like this one that grab you somewhere in the chest, that would somehow innoculate you from the hard feeling of living them. Like this: If I finish my Christmas shopping by September, I won't have so many bits to be anxious about come December. But it's not that clean-cut. See, while that kind of planning does spare me from standing in crowded shops and endless lines, it also ensures that my Christmas anxiety lasts that many months longer.
I did what I could for today. I made sure she had something to wear that made her feel like it's a special day. I bought some notebooks and pencils. But it all lacked the usual fervor--I was passionless, like with a lover who you already know will betray you.
Just as I suspected, the day is here, and I still have to live it.
I still have to walk her to the building and watch it swallow her up. I still have to turn to Lucy, who says she's ready to go to her camp now, and swim in her loneliness with her all morning long. I still have to feel the way these long limbs and this sharp-angled body won't fit in my lap for much longer. Buying the pencils ahead of time? Not really helping right now.
I think this is somehow the key to unlocking my obsession with overpreparation. I'm already letting it go like a kite whose string I don't even plan to hold once it gets to the end. All the organizing, packing, cleaning, doing--it doesn't spare me from feeling the way I feel in the moment. I still have to be with my fear or my sadness.
Life isn't a subject I can cram for and master ahead of time. I can't live this day until it's here, and knowing it's coming, trying to wield preparation as some kind of shield, doesn't spare me from a thing.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009 at 7:34AM | Share Article 8 Comments | Email Article Print Article | Permalink | in motherhood
Reader Comments (8)
you're right. you can't prepare for life. there's always something new, even if it is expected around the corner. my girls went back to school three weeks ago. and i'm still not out of the summer funk. and i am still missing them all day.
Oh, Jen. This is hard, but true. I learned this on a trip I recently took - all the preparation in the world doesn't spare me from having to take each step, even when it's difficult.
I hope you find some peace today, and that Lucy isn't too lonely.
How your words relate to another area of my life where i so desperately want to prepare, but I find I can not. I almost don't want to be prepared, as I find this ride life has had me on lately has been something else.
I hope your little one loves the first grade. My son is loving his teacher, but missing his momma. That is what he told me and it melted my heart.
Prepares you to be unprepared. Prepares you to be fearless. But how few can do it, when all around us is the Everlasting Wish Business.
inhaling this post like it's a drug. just said goodbye to my daughter as i put her on the bus to brooklyn as she begins to spread her wings. it's hard letting go.
xo
Things are always catching us unawares no matter how diligently we plan and prepare. I'm working on letting go of some of my own preparing these days.
I'm trying to prepare for winter - its a lovely day here - but I can feel autumn hurrying near and after that winter will come down with wet cold blackness... oh dear... do find this time of year hard
Beautiful thoughts and the way you wove them with words.