Turning to a New Year

A college friend once told me that a career is like "a book with many chapters." And though that conversation was a few years ago and I've since dabbled with countless career metaphors, I honestly can't think of a better analogy.  It's so good, in fact, that I believe it can capture the experience of living as well.

A really great life, like a really good book, takes us on a journey. We, the protagonists, seek fulfillment in one form or another.  In our quest we encounter many obstacles along the way but somehow we always find new ways to use our inner strengths to leap over those roadblocks.  We silence the demons of self-doubt, deceive the army of naysayers and slay the dragons of defeat.

Throughout the many chapters of our lives, we survive many changes, losses and heartaches.  But we keep moving forward towards our quest for fulfillment and human connection, which takes on new meaning, growing in spirit, strength and confidence.

At least that's how the story is supposed to go...

But as 2013 is now upon me, beckoning me to move forward, I find myself hesitating. I think about the chapters in my own book of life- especially the part where I play Mommy- and how much I resist turning the page to see what lies ahead.  I don't want to let those nostalgic chapters go, even though they're already long gone. All that remains is my bare wistfulness.

I cling to the experiences of my children as little ones: of a tiny hand just able to grasp my index finger, chubby little thighs that smell so good after a nice warm bath.  I sort through pictures of yesteryear and wonder: how did the belly-laughs, the lullabies, the toothless smiles at my singing, the soothing vibrations of a sleeping baby on my chest get swallowed up by the passage of time?  Where do these experiences go? Do they evaporate into the ether when my memory can't quite hold on to them anymore- when I can't hear these moments anymore... or feel them or smell them?

Even the best photographs are no match for the power of the senses.

It's not that I want my children to be babies anymore.  As most parents would concur- so please excuse my hackneyed insight here- I am so grateful that I've conquered the stage of feeding/burping/changing diapers/schlepping around a million things for a meager trip to the grocery store- a trip which, by the way, takes an hour rather than the 12 minutes it would take going solo.  I don't miss the the despair and befuddlement I felt as they lay crying due to the fact that, lacking any type of formal communication, they couldn't tell me what was wrong.

(And then language came, which has now enabled them to tell me everything that is wrong.)

So what is it about the passage of time, the fleeting nature of experience, that allows me to avoid looking ahead and turning to the next chapter?  Is it merely the fact that something only happens once?  Even if that something tried my patience and disrupted my sleep schedule?

I think we all hang on to things just for the sake of hanging on, even if it's not something we truly want to keep in our lives. The only thing that we're really grasping is familiarity.  We know what the past and present look like.  We don't know what the future holds, even though it could be the best experience we will have ever had.

If my kids had stayed little, I'd never have been able to see all of the great stuff of today.  Like my daughter's amazing gift for storytelling, her fascination with books, her beautiful artwork and uncanny imagination. I would've missed taking her to New York at Christmastime and seeing her peer through the exquisitely designed windows at Bergdorf's.  I would've missed sharing with her the magic of watching a great show on Broadway.

And I wouldn't have been able to see my son wake up in the morning and head straight to the advent  calendar to count down the days to Christmas.  Or help him transform his room to a Spider Man lair and answer his infinite questions about super heroes.

(And by "answer" I mean, "You'll have to ask Daddy about that one.")

So I suppose I should embrace growing, especially since that IS the name of this blog. Therefore I'm dedicating this year, 2013, to moving forward. To growing.  To turning the page to see what lies ahead.

In order to accomplish this goal I know I'll need to keep reminding myself that, like in any good story, there's always a big twist.  It often happens at the height of the protagonist's struggles, when she feels she doesn't have anything yet to give or look forward to. When the past looks like all that's worth hanging on to.  But in the next chapter she emerges, almost miraculously, fulfilled in ways she never imagined.  Which gives her the confidence that, no matter what dragons lie ahead, she'll slay them too.

Sounds like a job for Spider Woman, don't you think?