when you're still waiting for the snow to fall, it doesn't really feel like Christmas at all...
“Ma’am,
did someone send you over here?”
I
look up from unloading my full cart of groceries onto the conveyer belt to meet
the eyes of the HEB checker. His eyes look up at his cashier number sign.
Express
lane. 15 items or less.
I
have just unloaded about $300 worth of groceries into the express lane.
“I
am so sorry! I was looking at number 17
and must have somehow moved my cart over here. I am really sorry -”
He
laughs, but not really. It’s okay, he says. A floor manager runs over to bag my
groceries. I feel my face burning.
It's been a week. The
day before, I raced from work to my parents’ home in North Austin to meet my
dad. Their home of 32 years sold in four days, and I want to get to the house
before the movers leave.
“You
missed them,” my dad says, giving me a kiss when I arrive. The house feels
peaceful, even with most everything expertly packed up. I want to lay down on
the floor.
I
follow my dad in my mom’s car to their new place of residence, willing myself
to feel peace. I’m driving my mom’s car because she has fallen and broken her
hip, and has been sequestered to the retirement home’s rehab floor. My dad will
start their new life in their new apartment alone. But they are cheery, even in
this.
Back
on the home front, I fall asleep on the couch during the evening news, as I plan
a visit to SMU for our youngest. I’m a part
of the sandwich generation; those of us who find ourselves caring for our parents,
while supporting our kids.
Even
with parents who are self-sufficient like mine, this still looks like a lot of
multi-tasking, less sleep, a few tears, and Mexican martinis you want to drink
with a straw. As I sit down to
write this, I am being texted, in a large group text. Pray for dad. He has diverticulitis. My phone begins to light up.
Sandwich
generation. I hurry, constantly onto the next thing / reminding myself to
breathe out. There is much love and gloriousness to be found during these
chaotic years. It’s a little like holding a ball of tangled Christmas lights
that need to be unwound, and you can’t stop staring at their beauty. And you
are not sure you have it in you to do the unwinding.
But
the unwinding does come, in the center of this hurricane of lights. It comes in
the whisper to our souls that we are stronger than we believe we are. That there
is a love making us brave. In the dark we search out the lights leading home,
strung like stark staccato notes over a field of snow. Like strings of Christmas
lights, we are most glorious when strung together, twisting and turning into the wind.
I'm ready for the snow to fall. I hold in my hands glowing lights that give warmth to my skin, reminding me I'm alive today. I'm ready for the chill of snowflakes on my face, mixing with the tears that fall like bittersweet candy, also reminding me that I'm alive today. I will fight for it every single time, this life, for me and for the ones I love. Sandwich generation.
Oh Christmas Lights
Light up the streets
Light up the fireworks in me
May all your troubles soon be gone
Those Christmas lights keep shining on.
- Coldplay