I've learned it's possible to push past personal trauma and illness to ensure your kiddos can participate in the festivities. Hey, being released from the hospital with just enough time to spare AND still having a bit of meds circulating in the system mean "YES we can!," as long as hubby is there to lend an arm and hold the flashlight as we weave down the street.
It is SO MUCH FUN to take the kids to the neighborhoods with doors you once knocked on. Granted, it's probably more fun in your own mind since you're re-living the good ol' days. Perhaps the children can't feel the joy of walking a "country mile" with stretches of fields between houses. Now it's all about filling the bag...ok, it was then too. We just didn't know there was an alternative.
My husband and I took one year each out of the near two decades to walk these old paths. The smiles on the faces in my husband's old stomping grounds as they greeted one of the Yurkewicz boys and his offspring--PRICELESS!
I've learned to influence costumes while there is still time! Yes, in the ideal years my children went dressed as an angel or Saint. Now there are "tasteful" vampires and Elsa. While dressing my second youngest child in his Army-man costume for a party last night it came time to add a tough-guy tattoo. I hesitated over his bicep for a second before suggesting, "How bout a heart with Mom?" He replied, "How bout a drop of blood." To which I responded, "How bout MOM in a heart?" "Ummm, how bout a flame?" he hopefully asked. I was not giving up knowing my third-grader wouldn't be offering me his little flexed muscles much longer...next year he'd be grabbing the paints himself...and in years to come perhaps darkening the door of a real ink shop. "How bout Mom." I stated. "Ok, how bout Mom, he agreed with a smile." Whew! You can bet I called attention to that tattoo at the party- Look how my son loves me!
There was the year we finally accepted the offer to trick-or-treat in my oldest sister's neighborhood. My sister Mary had been diagnosed with stage 4 colo-rectal cancer and I just wanted to be near her. A couple things learned that night a) Never try and out-do my sister...there would be no winning. I felt so festive in my orange and black until I was greeted at the door by a beautiful, glamorous witch complete with striped stockings, a feathery, pointed hat, full make-up, and wig. b) It can be more fun staying behind to man the "giving" station. Mary and I giggled over home-made yarn braids, scary masks, and neighbors who had come and see her in all her finery. We also sat in quiet as certain moments called for. I had the opportunity to ooh-and ahh over every decorative spider web, lit up jack-o-lantern, and fiery cauldron she had found the energy to set out--of course she gloried in the compliments. c) I should have come to my sister's years ago when her health was well. Mary's been gone for almost two years now and the tears run down my cheeks as I remember that evening and am grateful that we drove across town-even past the country roads we grew up on to spend that fun evening together. I'm grateful for her example and hold her spirit of joy deep in my heart as we head out this year.
I acknowledge the largest lesson of this season: time moves swiftly. Therefore I commit to seizing the moment while holding kids and family close. I am insisting we head to the other side of town as a family- though some teenagers would rather hang with friends. Regardless of the chill in the air, I will rejoice with each thud of candy in their hard plastic pumpkin. Not for material gain...but because we walk together as a family- through the darkness of the night and find reasons to laugh and support one another. It is what you make it. Perhaps I'll throw on a bit of "ink" tonight. I'll be the arm with seven little hearts holding onto my husband as we weave through the streets. He's relented this year...back to my old town. But not the same old country streets. The cousins we'll trick or treat with have learned there are streets that exist with houses that are separated by mere driveways. Even I can appreciate change.
No comments:
Post a Comment