It's raining outside. I used to think I'd be listening to jazz, sitting on the window ledge of an upper studio apartment, looking down over the streets of New York City on a gray day like this. I even pictured playing along on my own saxophone.
Yeah...uhhhm no. Let's just say my life holds no semblance to the existence I envisioned while in my teens.
I do have Michael Buble's station playing on Pandora...so I shouldn't say NO semblance right? It is kinda jazzy. But as for New York City- well, I'm in the neighboring state of Pennsylvania sitting in my upper story (yet another semblance), wooden office, looking out over fallen leaves that have covered my husband's ladders. Those tools sit next to the well-loved lacrosse portion of the yard which is the backdrop to our summer's shining star- the pool. Of course there's the swingset with attatched platform/slide that has seen better days...and by that I mean it used to be the summer's shining star. The kids are getting older and we have more pick-up football games than we do calls for Mommy to "come push me!" We can't forget Millie's (our choc lab) kennel. It's kitty-corner to the fire pit that Millie sneaks wood from to chew when she thinks we're not looking. It's the same wood she sneaks within plain view, then takes off to the lax area to hide behind the net...it's a net Millie, we can see you!
It's raining outside...perhaps the same condensation passed over NYC hours ago. Crazy to think of a life so foreign to my current days. I've never even held a saxophone to my lips. I'll hint at my age and admit that fantasy's inspiration was influenced by Kenny G. Who didn't love Silhouette? flashback to Silhouette (you're welcome). And yet, I am happy. I am content. I look at the leaves that cover the yard where my children's youth has played out. I see the trees that were full of vibrant green buds just this past spring. They have released their blooms that whispered in summer's breeze and stand disrobed, yet sturdy, guarding our lawn carpeted in the golden offerings from these sentinels. I'm reminded of another childhood favorite that holds more meaning now then ever... Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree. No kidding, this book sits on the edge of my desk...next to the window I look out. Perhaps it's been waiting for this rainy day to remind me how good I've got it. And how life is not about the destination but the journey.
We parents once held the bud of youth in our dreams of how life would be. We now have the opportunity to lay down our golden glory for our children to pile up and play in. They can cover themselves and feel secure in our commitment to share this journey with them. Perhaps they will provide us with their own little buds to bring rejuvenation in our golden years. It comes full circle. I wouldn't trade a single, crazy, hectic moment nor a neck hugging, sloppy kiss on the cheek embrace for a smooth jazz note lilting what could have been. We make our own music here with broom stick air guitars and ladles for microphones. These are the days creating the memories of tomorrow. I imagine when I am an old woman I will look out at the trees and smile, remembering my children hanging from the branches and lobbing footballs under their leaves.
Then again, I've been surprised before...perhaps I will be harnessed to my eldest, sharing a tandem skydive. I wouldn't put it passed my second to have me deep sea fishing or my third to share her hotel amenities while she attends a medical conference on the Big Island. My fourth just may get me to New York for a Broadway play the night after my fifth reserved a front row seat so I could watch the mad drumming skills he led the band with. I will need some quiet time so I suppose I would prefer the box seat offered to watch my sixth in the Superbowl. I will be tired so I will gladly return to my husband who kept the home fires burning at our sweet seventh's home-- where we will live. ;)
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