away

Spring break. My daughter is away on a school trip, and I am away too, visiting an old friend who moved away to Portland, Oregon. I have never been to Oregon before. It's beautiful. It's wonderful to be away.

Being away always makes me think. Things happen, things are noticed. My luggage is lost and I notice that it's not my books or my favorite sweaters that I am REALLY worried about--what I really regret not putting in my carry-on bag is . . . my cell phone charger. Seriously. My cell phone has become this amazing little nexus of communication and information, and the threat of having it die on me is making me notice how much I rely on it, but also how much fun I have with it.

[Please repeat after me: Text messaging is NOT going to result in the death of the English language. Texting is FUN, it's writing play, and this is a GOOD thing.]

Loving my cell phone does not seem like a bad thing. I just need to make a few adjustments to take into account how much I depend on it.

Another thing I have noticed is that I am in a more-than-ever different life stage from my friend. She is younger than I am, has no children, and is still young enough that she could. She is in a serious relationship with a smart young boyfriend who seems like he might actually be worthy of her (she's really special, ok, and she deserves someone who realizes this). But they don't have forever to figure this out. If they want to get married, get pregnant, and raise kids before they are too old to survive the sleep deprivation, they have to get on it pretty quick. I think they realize this. I wish them luck. Timing is important, but there is never a good time for either a wedding or a childbirth. Sometimes you just have to take your fear in hand and let the universe take over.

Seeing my friend in this situation reminds me again, more clearly than even, that I have nothing but time. I have only a few years left of full-time parenting, my life is comfortable but not at all boring, and I am in no rush to make any dramatic changes. I feel lucky to have this luxury of no rush. Maybe this is the gift of being middle-aged. My daughter still needs me but needs me much less, and much differently. I do what I want, be who I want, a lot of the time. It's been years since I had such freedom. When I see women with younger children, I can still feel their compression in my own body as well as the open relief of the freedom I am growing into now.

As I imagine my friend having children and going through this compression herself, I shake my head--why does any woman put herself through this voluntarily--and yet we do. Perhaps some old part of our souls is creating the future moment of freedom that we couldn't feel if we didn't experience the sheer imprisonment of being a mother. (As I write this, I realize how melodramatic it sounds, but it seems true, at the moment anyway.)