Pajamas

How our lives are punctuated by change, and a poem about pjs

I took much of August off from posting, planning on doing some writing and spending time with family. I did both of those things, and yet August didn’t shape up quite the way I expected.

My mom, who had been declining with dementia, died at the very end of July. After such a long time, the end came very quickly. The writing I did in August was limited to an obituary and a eulogy. I made arrangements for her cremation with a funeral home, began wading through the details of her estate and, with the help of family and friends, I planned a funeral and the reception that would follow it. It was a busy and emotional month and I will have lots to say about that in the coming weeks.

But right now my focus is elsewhere. My kids are both headed back to college this weekend and I’ve been thinking a lot about family and the comings and goings that punctuate our lives. My mother used to say she didn’t grieve when we climbed aboard the school bus that first time because it was what we were supposed to do. Wouldn’t it have been sadder if we couldn’t for some reason? She maintained that her job was to teach us to live without her. I don’t disagree, exactly. Certainly, I strive to prepare my kids for the road, not the road for my kids.

But I value this life we have with two mostly grown children, the shifting nature of it and the hard but rewarding work of accepting my changing role in their lives. Where I think my mom saw my adulthood as an ending, I look at my son and daughter’s adulthood as an opportunity. My relationships with my kids must reflect who they are now, must make them feel seen and respected as adults in the world. Given economic realities, grown kids often need to come back home for a while these days. I’m trying to lay the groundwork that will let them feel they can live here while still living their lives, not put their lives on hold in order to live here. We’ve spent a lot of time this summer sorting through some of these nuts and bolts.

It’s complicated work, as we are all shifting and changing versions of ourselves. The hardest and sweetest part for me is welcoming back for a few moments or hours the child they once were, the one who needs a previous version of me for comfort or strength. And then, just as quickly, being able to make room for their grown self to reemerge and take charge. It can be a complicated dance, one I don’t always perform with perfection. But I won’t give up trying.

But now, as we pack up bins and boxes, make lists and run errands, I confess I’m indulging in a bit of nostalgia.

Marc Typo

’s Letter to Myles this week was a lovely look at what’s hard and good about the shift to daycare. It rang so true to me, as I thought about all those shifts we make as kids grow older and the grief and joy that come hand in hand with change. Coming home to an empty house after college drop-off is one of those times, although I know, having done it before, we’ll all be okay. Eventually we may even be great.

The poem below is a nod to those feelings of nostalgia. It was one of the first poems I wrote during the February Poetry Adventure this year, maybe the very first one. Lots of bins will be packed into cars over the next couple of days. But the ones stashed in the basement have a special place in my heart.

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Pajamas

The red and white dress
with the twirly skirt
she danced in at two weddings,
age four

The gray blue sweater
I knit for him with
the XOXO cable down 
the front

These linger in 
my memory and 
also in a bin
in the basement

But it is their pajamas
that bring my hand
to my chest, release
a quiet oh from my mouth

How they were passed
down from one to the other
How they held their tiny
bodies in heavy sleep,

Sweaty after a feverish 
night, rumpled and
creased at the elbows 
and knees

When you add all
the hours they slept, 
it may be that their
pajamas held them 

Even longer than 
we did. Perhaps 
that is why I 
love them so

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It’s good to be back here with you all. Wishing any parents out there the strength, support, and flexibility you need to grapple with the changes of the next few weeks, whether it’s the first day of daycare, kindergarten, high school, or college. It’s hard work, but it’s so worth doing. Take good care of yourselves.

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What I’m Reading:

It’s been several weeks of comfort reading for me with everything that’s been happening, so I don’t have anything too momentous to recommend. However, if you like your mysteries historical and with a liberal dash of romance, may I recommend Deanna Raybourn’s Veronica Speedwell series (extra points if you’re a gardener and appreciate the botanical wink of her name). The first two books in the series, A Curious Beginning, and A Perilous Undertaking, have been a smart and entertaining diversion in the last couple of weeks. A library colleague of mine shared that a while back she found herself asking, “What if I only read things that made me feel good?” I’m all for an intellectual challenge, but when it comes to my bedtime reading, I’m feeling like that might be an excellent prescription in these times.

Thanks for reading, everyone!