Saturday, April 20, 2019

The Scent of a Memory

Tonight, I crawled into bed tired but satisfied by a creative and productive day at work. I love those days...where you're physically and creatively spent but satisfied by the result.

The window in my room has been open today and the cool April breeze is bringing along a smoky scent of a distant grass fire. I settled in with the intent to continue reading an incredible book that I've been really learning a lot from and as I picked it up, with at least an hour to read before I really need to fall asleep, I caught the scent of many an evening in Zambia at Kachele. I lay in my bed and I felt the same satisfaction of a day well spent - albeit very differently - and the gratitude for a pure and happy memory that came to me literally on the wind.

The past few months have been a really introspective time - almost a hibernation of sorts, allowing my roots to grow deeply back into places where they were torn apart. I have felt the stabilizing of our household of three, even as the boys grow into men before my eyes and we are ever changing in our schedules and's been a really slow and comfortable time to just be with them nearly every night at dinner, listening to their stories, their upcoming exam schedules, their conversations with each other and the best part, having sweet girls in the house as well bringing a whole new sound of laughter and conversation to the household.  Spring brings much change to our household and yet, with all that needs to be done to sell a house and pack up a life and figure out a new living situation and unpack a continues to allow me to just revisit memories, good ones and difficult ones, with fresh eyes. Sometimes it's cathartic and I can Marie Kondo my way through some of the difficult or unattached memories. Sometimes it's painful and I pile things to be evaluated again on whether they get packed up and brought with...or let go with all the others things loosened in the past years.

So tonight, I'm just here to say, "I'm still here." I'm still figuring out life after marriage. Life with boys for a few more ...dare I say it...years of sharing a home. Life on my own and working and walking the dog and throwing the cat outside at 3:30 am and all the things that continue on and must...despite what has changed and evolved.

I'm here. 
I'm tired but satisfied.
I'm alternately anxious and confident.
I'm still figuring out how to hold these boys up and let them go at the same time.
I'm grieving and celebrating their independence and their maturity as they grow into men.
I'm sure of myself in ways I've never been and I'm happy in ways I can't remember but I can be brought back to the pain by a phone call or a photograph in an instant. I'm learning not to hold on to those instants...just to breathe through them and remember they never last as long as they once did.
I'm loved. I'm broken. I'm healing. I'm hopeful.

I'm thankful for this one and only life and I'm growing into whatever this next stage of it looks like.

The memory of Zambia not only makes me happy, it reminds me of where I'm happiest and why.