It's starting to look a lot like... well, not exactly Christmas. But with my oldest's recent return to our new home on St. Thomas, having been away at boarding school for the last 6 weeks, the holiday season has a whole new feel. It dawns on me that until this fall I have only been an observer to the normative life phase (MFT term) of launching children into adulthood. Past years around this time, the "older" women on my paddle tennis team would be telling me details on their kids and who was coming home for the holidays or where their family was traveling to visit their adult children living elsewhere. I didn't think much of it- families reuniting for Thanksgiving or meeting up somewhere over the holidays was what everyone did if they could. But as a teenager, I had gone to boarding school and never thought twice about what it was like for my parents to receive their oldest daughter for winter break after she'd been away at school since September. But, wow! With Hugh's return, and having been grieving his absence since I'd dropped him off outside his dorm days before the rest of us shipped off to the USVI, I have an entirely new understanding of what homecoming truly means. And, I have not slept as soundly or deeply as I have since he arrived. (My sleep watch will tell you.)
With all of my polichinelle children now under one roof, my insecure thoughts about leaving "what was" are weaker and my ability to nest and expand is stronger. Everyone is home, granted a stranger's version of a home with an abundance of dark wooden furniture and pink walls. We are a unit of five humans, once again. And for the time being, there is no more dread about COVID tests, required flu shots and vaccines, dorm lock downs, disappointing campus food and whether or not he is eating enough, how he will make friends as a new junior (or meet girls) when wearing a mask all day long, and the definition of "approved" extra-curricular campus activities including hours on end of X-box, instead of traveling to sports games, attending a talk on climate change and Friday night dances. Now together, all five of us are learning to integrate into this new climate, and I'm not just talking about the weather.
Each one of us, be it as a prepubescent, a teenager, a mother, a father, a sibling, a friend, a student, a teammate, a client, a renter, a guest, a host, is being invited to test unfamiliar waters and say "yes" to almost strangers. We are listening to and following new found curiosities like skurfing (think water-skiing, but on a skimboard) and hydroponics (the produce down here does not meet the expectations of what one would think). So, bit by bit we explore, finding our way as a unit and as one, where I, Mother Ginger, gladly watch and participate in the trailblazing and retreating dance of being the new person. I am just so happy to be along side these creatures of mine, taking in the warm comfort of being on this adventure with them, even if it is only for an extended winter break. I get to marvel every day at the things that my kids are doing to life a full life, even if it means sleeping until 11am or suddenly deciding to apply to Choate and follow in her big brother's footsteps. It's all one big dance, this journey, with the continual tending, nurturing, allowing, embracing, supporting, and leading. But I believe that when you know a home, a true shelter that could even be a giant hoop skirt where the light fades and the dancing slows, we all feel safe enough to keep exploring new horizons.
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