Never Again
Posted by Shelli Altopp Miller at 7/22/2008 9:03 PM 
Categories: Shelli Altopp Miller, Parenting
Tags: Family
Categories: Shelli Altopp Miller, Parenting
Tags: Family
Earlier this week, my son, his friend David, and I swam across Walden Pond. It was the first time for both of the boys who were certain they'd be able to make it there and back, but were fairly easily persuaded to exit on the far side and hike back around to our starting point. On this hike, they discovered little coves with warm water and shallow sandy bottoms. We got in and splashed around a bit before resuming the hike; the swim across had taken so long that it was now time to go home. My son and David made plans to come back soon and claim a cove all to themselves by setting down our chair and towels in the tiny space between the trees that opens to the entry point. My son asked me a few times a day if we could take David and go back. We just didn't have time and now those plans will never see the light bouncing off the clear, shallow cove water of Walden Pond.
In the wee hours of tomorrow morning, my kids leave here for good. Our family is moving soon, several states away, but my kids are leaving earlier to stay with grandparents. I won't see them again until we're settled into our new house. It will be too far to come back here any time soon. Anyway, David will be moving in a year.
Today I spent the whole day helping my kids say "goodbye". Actually, it has been a process, which started the last day of school. They walked out that day knowing they'd never be back, knowing they'd never see those teachers nor most of those kids again. The process continued the following week when a friend of my son moved. The next week it was one of my daughter's friends. Another friend went to camp and wouldn't return before we moved. Then, our next door neighbors moved. It has been a summer of "goodbyes".
I cried tonight as I realized all the fun things my kids will never do here again: Play soccer, ride our bikes on the Minuteman Trail to the Candy Castle, climb the rock wall at the fitness center, walk to the Shoppette by themselves, sit in the dugout with me at a softball game, ride the Ripstik down the hill behind our house, eat the best breakfast around - at Helen's in Concord, and play in the shallow cove with their best friends at Walden Pond. Never again. I only moved once as a child and was too young to remember it. I worry how my kids will turn out, this being their fourth major move.
Tonight the bedtime story was Dr. Suess' "Oh The Places You'll Go". Long after the kids were tucked in and asleep, I went looking for it to quote in this post. I found it under my daughter's pillow. Perhaps Suess' words gave her comfort and hope, a lifeline between her fading world here and the one on the other side of grandma's house.
Suess tells it like it is: "All Alone! Whether you like it or not, alone will be something you'll be quite a lot..." He continues, "On and on you will hike. And I know you'll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are." Suess ends on a note of hope, "Step with care and great tact and remember Life's a Great Balancing Act... And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.) KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!" And the finale: "Your mountain is waiting. So...get on your way!" Moving is a mountain. We'll move it - or hike it somehow. I reassure the kids (and myself) something great is waiting on the other side. We just can't see it yet.
In the wee hours of tomorrow morning, my kids leave here for good. Our family is moving soon, several states away, but my kids are leaving earlier to stay with grandparents. I won't see them again until we're settled into our new house. It will be too far to come back here any time soon. Anyway, David will be moving in a year.
Today I spent the whole day helping my kids say "goodbye". Actually, it has been a process, which started the last day of school. They walked out that day knowing they'd never be back, knowing they'd never see those teachers nor most of those kids again. The process continued the following week when a friend of my son moved. The next week it was one of my daughter's friends. Another friend went to camp and wouldn't return before we moved. Then, our next door neighbors moved. It has been a summer of "goodbyes".
I cried tonight as I realized all the fun things my kids will never do here again: Play soccer, ride our bikes on the Minuteman Trail to the Candy Castle, climb the rock wall at the fitness center, walk to the Shoppette by themselves, sit in the dugout with me at a softball game, ride the Ripstik down the hill behind our house, eat the best breakfast around - at Helen's in Concord, and play in the shallow cove with their best friends at Walden Pond. Never again. I only moved once as a child and was too young to remember it. I worry how my kids will turn out, this being their fourth major move.
Tonight the bedtime story was Dr. Suess' "Oh The Places You'll Go". Long after the kids were tucked in and asleep, I went looking for it to quote in this post. I found it under my daughter's pillow. Perhaps Suess' words gave her comfort and hope, a lifeline between her fading world here and the one on the other side of grandma's house.
Suess tells it like it is: "All Alone! Whether you like it or not, alone will be something you'll be quite a lot..." He continues, "On and on you will hike. And I know you'll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are." Suess ends on a note of hope, "Step with care and great tact and remember Life's a Great Balancing Act... And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.) KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!" And the finale: "Your mountain is waiting. So...get on your way!" Moving is a mountain. We'll move it - or hike it somehow. I reassure the kids (and myself) something great is waiting on the other side. We just can't see it yet.
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