Making memories

When I was younger, my children would find events like that riverfront market, three hours away. They'd get excited. We'd talk briefly about it. It was likely happening the next day or that weekend. We'd just go. Now, we really don't do spur of the moment experiences. Our trips, regardless of distance take a little planning. But, we still go. Making memories and finding joy doesn't require spontaneity. It requires being surround by the people I love.

Nothing lasts forever

When I was small, I remember there was a restaurant called Burger Chef and Jeff. My Dad bought kids meals for my brother and me. They came on a cardboard tray that had holes cut out to hold the burger, fries, beverage, and toy. When it closed, it was replaced by A&W. I really only recall how much I love the floats. During this time period, Mom took us to a local sandwich shop on the town square. It was on the second floor. I'm uncertain what occupies that location now, but I can show you the exact building. My Dad preferred to take us to the local bowling alley. There was a cafe inside. We had breakfast there often. I always ordered biscuits and gravy. Sadly, that building no longer exists. I remember breakfast at McDonald's after church on Sunday. There used to be a buffet. Later, as life grew more busy, my Dad would pick up literal bags of chicken Littles from KFC after church, every Sunday. I could keep going, but there is a point to this stroll down memory lane. The point is nothing lasts forever. When a change of routine is forced, you can be disorientated, disgruntled, upset, or even angry. But, it's far more productive to adapt. Moving on doesn't mean forgetting the past. It means you have the strength to weather and ride the wave of change.

I miss the comfort of predictability

After college, I was ridiculously predictable. I would wake before the sun rose. I would put on the work out clothes I selected the night before. I'd put on light makeup and put my hair up, usually in a french braid. I liked to run and work out every morning. If it was a weekend, I'd shower, dress casually and take my children with me on a side gig or to a volunteer location. If it was a week day, I'd shower and dress predictably. I worked week days. I was always well put together. I always wore a suit. I always wore my hair in a french bun. I'd get my children up, dressed, fed, and either to my parents when I still lived close or to school and daycare when I lived further away. I always ate lunch with the same people, unless there was a meeting. I always had something going on after work. I went to grad school three nights a week. I always ran in the evening. It helped me wind down. When I lived close to home, my family watched my children. When I moved further away, I took them with me. I could always find a small track that surround a playground someplace. I've always been a work-a-holic. I've always loved to run. I loved taking my children out. I loved driving. They enjoyed the ride and seeing new places. We could commonly be found at museums and zoos, hiking, spelunking, swimming, or feeding the ducks. These days, my life is more chaotic. Sometimes, I wake and can't breathe. I no longer have the comforting order of my youth. I miss being formidable and capable. I miss having the ability and freedom to go when and wherever I pleased. I'm disappointed that my younger self didn't appreciate and took forgranted the many things I long to be capable of performing again. I can't put my hair in a french braid or bun. My fingers lack the coordination and dexterity. I can't run or drive. I really miss the freedom.