Traveling along wherever the winds of change have tossed me, the past few years have fast forwarded like flashes of lightening, illuminating certain events and situations with dreadful clarity.
My youngest son’s child and my fifth grandchild will be a year old April 10. My son and his wife had a quiet marriage ceremony yesterday in a park, just the two of them and no one else but the birds, the squirrels and a chill in the air.
I was devastated when they told me the news, but held fast to the fact that it wasn’t announced with anger or malice. No one was invited, not me, his father, nor her parents or any siblings. No friends except a photographer who doubled as the witness to sign the papers with the judge. They wanted it to be just the two of them and hoped we would all understand. Eventually they would have a recommitment ceremony in the warmer weather and invite all the ones they loved. But for now, it was personal and an event they didn’t want to share.
I had always known these two would marry, even when I saw them together when they were in high school. They fit well together and complimented each other’s nuances. It reminded me of my first love, my high school sweetheart whom I married amid a swirl of excitement and adventure. We had eloped to Maryland and got married by a Justice of the Peace, and no one was there, not my parents nor his. The irony has not been lost on me.
“You’re officially now a mother-in-law” he said over the phone, a peaceful cadence to his voice I had not heard before.
“I’ll be a good one” I said through tears, hoping he wouldn’t hear them. “I know what NOT to do.”
“We took lots of pictures, Mom” she said taking the phone from him.
“Good” I smiled and realized I also had gained another daughter. They were going to be fine. We all were going to be fine.
Later, when my beloved called to tell me about another successful performance on the road, he stopped in mid sentence and asked how I was feeling. I replied I was a little sad that I wasn’t able to be a part of it all, but in doing so, realized the decisions made had been a result of how they were raised.
I spent most of my adult life running from my family in some sort of semblance of independence; I wanted to do things my way and never gave a thought as to other’s opinions or input. I was the first born of the family, the oldest cousin and the one they all practiced on. The result of this thinking was that I raised my children to be independent as well, and to challenge what they thought was not right for them, to go against the norm if they had to. I always appreciated the fact that I became the touchstone for their lives, the anchor to which they were bound. Although they still do things their own way, they check in with me to hear what they already know they are going to do.
Luckily for me and my heart, my oldest is engaged and wants to have a traditional wedding in the summer of 2009, with bells and whistles and then some.
“You’re ok?” He asked as we said our goodbyes.
“Yes” I said, knowing that I really was.
“I saw the movie” he whispered softly before we bid goodnight. “You know what you have to do.”
Smiling as I put the phone into its receiver, I remembered the movie and the lines he was quoting. It was one of our favorites and summed up what we knew was meant to be.
The Field of Dreams. At the end of the movie, when the ballplayers invite James Earl Jones out into the cornfield, Kevin Costner stops him to ask “Are you going to write about it?”
He answers softly, “I’m a writer. That’s what I do.”
Life goes on.
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