THE THINGS WE MISS

.....But at that earlier time, I realized that Cassie was right, that she'd parsed it well: Miraculotta was me, me and Dana combined. That when I was dreaming her up in the dark with Cassie, I was talking about all the feelings I had about that time, the sense of magical possibility embodied for me in Dana's energy and passion, in the openendedness of my own life, in the curious momentary hallucination we all shared then---more important to me, I think, than to anyone else in the house---that we could make of our lives anything we wanted, that all the rules we'd learned growing up did not apply. We didn't know what would happen next: that was our great gift. The gift of youth. The thing we miss, it seems to me, no matter what we've made of our lives, as we get older. When we do know what will happen next. And next and next, and then last......While I Was Gone by Sue Miller

I've come to find out that a very special young lady in my family is pregnant and I can't help but grieve for her, the child, the soon-to-be-grandparents. My heart has been filled with a heaviness for her, since I know that she's been searching for herself beneath a cloak of smiles, I'm okays, and everything's lovely. By outward measure, this is a child one would have thought would be on an MBA-JD track by now. Private schools from the day one, suburban comforts, parents who bought a half million dollar home tucked behind miles of corn fields. Who would have thought that two years worth of college would yield continued indecision, anger, staying out late at night, lies, partial untruths and now a pregnancy after two previous terminations. Not I.
I understand, with an increased awareness, how the maxim came about: Youth is wasted on the young.

The argument can be made that lots of people have babies when they're young and they turn out to be quite successful. True. But a lot of people jump off bridges and live to tell about it, paralyzed and in wheelchairs. What I can't help wondering is where do things turn? At what age do children delve off the path, lose track, stumble? What advantages did young adults like Tiger Woods, Serena Williams, Venus Williams have that others didn't/don't? What and where are the tools for raising successful children? (The partial definition of success, my own, being the ability to support oneself financially in the line of work one finds most pleasing.)

I grieve for this young woman because I know that she has grooved her path with hot coals; she has asked for the hardest assignment there is. She has pushed her youth and all it's indescriminate pleasures aside. And try as one might, it never returns. As I watched Kid 1 swimming her heart out this morning, having mastered the arms and the straight leg kick, and now swimming with only a two-float belt, I can't help smiling at the pride, the joy, painted in broad strokes across her face. It's the same expression I see at gymnastics on Thursdays. I can't help thinking of the warm comfort between us as we sat up late last night stringing beads onto wire to make Bead Bracelets. I can't help thinking of the Jazzy Phatnastees blaring on my radio, me and Dad in front and she in back, singing at the tops of our lungs, off-key: ".....you're getting all up in my face!" What comes to me, there at the side of the pool, is that children need something to hold onto, something to hope for, something to master, something to cut their teeth upon. In parents, they need us to guide them, but they also need to know that we have something in common with them. That we are them, only older. They need to know that we are interested in them beyond the call of discipline. They need to know and moreover, BELIEVE, that they can make anything they want of their lives. That they can be anything, anyone they choose to be. I want to swim because she swims and I can only imagine it pulling us closer when at sixteen I can say, come on, let's go swimming just me and you. We are very close and right now, we do have a lot in common which I cannot say of this young woman and her mother. Her mother has no interests other than decorating her home and swapping stories with her neighbors. She doesn't have any hobbies nor did she introduce her daughter to any. Their life together has been an ongoing series of arguments, fights, disagreements, etc. And now a youth that is quickly waving goodbye, boarding the four o'clock train to St. Elsewhere.

I grieve for the young ones who lose their youth prematurely. I grieve.

Be Well. Be Love(d).
ANGEL