I sink into the sweet pink bathwater, nerves jangling like keys on a ring. The water is so hot my skin is as pink as the bubble bath I swirled beneath the running tap moments ago. My aches melt into the fragrance of rose jam mingling with oatmeal bath. My small attempt to create a spa experience in my bathroom, one where the cares of the world beyond the white double doors don't exist, if only for a short period of time.
My spa illusion is aided by the cat fountain bubbling away beneath our double sinks. If I close my eyes it’s not a fountain, but a babbling brook. For a second, I imagine I’m in the hot tub at my favorite spa inhaling rich aromotherapeutic fragrances instead of being home practicing social distancing, weeks away from seeing the friends only a few short miles away. One deep breath later and my nerves settle into slightly coiled springs, the change of the last few weeks keeping them ever on edge, awaiting more newness.
Three weeks ago, on the eve of Spring Break, had you told me it was the last playdate we would have with our closest Texas friends until who knows when, I would have laughed. The dandelions had just started pressing their way through the soil, signaling the change of seasons, and we all were feeling a little on edge from rain-induced cabin fever. My son spent the better part of the playdate arguing with his best friend. When it was time for us to part ways my dear friend and I promised our boys that in one week we would all be together again.
How I wish I could return to that time. Six days later I watched as seat after seat after seat on the plane I was to take back into Texas emptied. My husband and I debated the financial blow of renting a car for me and our son to get home instead of boarding plane with only 25 others. Home without my husband who had to stay in Alabama for work. Home to my own bed. To my cats. Home to a world already so very different from the one we flew away from.
We chose to fly and boarded a plane so empty the flight attendants encouraged us to sit wherever we wanted. We chose one row behind first class to a full window and more leg room than my five-foot-one self could ever possibly need. Business class for free. We landed in a near-empty airport and paused briefly in the fanciest family restroom I’ve ever set foot inside before beginning a journey to retrieve luggage and get to the car. Our luggage came from the plane almost too quickly, and the eerie silence of the airport felt strange. For a moment, I felt like I did the day I returned to work after maternity leave: like everything was different and the only one who realized it was me. Yet even now, I know this is false. No sports on TV, no social gatherings. No. Too much has changed in this season of new beginnings.
The daffodils are close to blooming by now. Yesterday it was ninety degrees. Mid-March and ninety degrees - one of my favorite parts of living in Texas. I thought the only differences between our past springs in Texas and now would be that of having a four-year-old verses a one, two, or three-year-old. I’d planned trips to the science museum to splash barefoot in the lily pad pond. Walks at the nature center and trips to the zoo to feed the baby giraffes. Before we flew to Alabama to visit my husband and choose the details of our home I was trying to find out where in the DFW Metroplex are cherry blossom trees. I wanted to go and see them at their perfect blush pink peak before our lives changed, once again.
From the day we agreed my husband would take the job in Alabama I knew change was inevitable. The time I had with friends in Texas would be limited to the time it took for our house to be constructed and once we moved weekly playdates would be replaced with texts, FaceTime, letters, and even more daily meme drops. I knew deep within that I would have to make new friends in a new area. A task made less daunting by the fact that I’d done it once before. The friendships I have from Ohio, Kentucky, and now Texas would sustain me during the time it took to find my people in Alabama. I expected to have a lot of time to enjoy and savor the friends I have in the here and now.
I expected change and distance when we agreed that this move was best for our family. I didn’t expect that texts, facetime, and meme drops would become the norm while I still lived in Texas. I don’t think anyone expected that a global pandemic would send us all to our homes and at least six feet away from neighbors and others in our lives. My whole family is together under one roof and when I flew to and then from Alabama, I did not consider that the uncertainty I expected in the fall of 2020 would come now, in the spring, as leaves change from brown to green and flowers bloom everywhere.
Instead of waking up having to go and do, our days are slower, with a calmer pace and more time to fill with activities. I wish I could go out, but I appreciate the stillness and silliness. The clutter that ends each day as my son and I make art project and game and go outside while my husband works from home. I never once expected to love how many times we’ve watched the same two Disney films. Nor did I expect to appreciate just how many imaginative games Bluey has added to my arsenal of ways to keep busy.
Of course, I find myself doubting myself at times, too. Wondering if I’m doing enough. The perfectionist within me still finds ways to struggle and question what I am doing. Is the house clean enough? (It doesn’t have to be spotless). Are we going outside enough while the weather is warm and the rain has ceased to be? Does it matter as long as we are together?
Perhaps this is a sign for me to give it to God, as my therapist and I have talked about. Perfection is out of reach in these uncertain times, and I’m learning to give myself grace for the mess and screen time, the slow workouts and the dead phone batteries from too many texts sent in one day. I’m choosing to be silly and embrace the slow down while so much remains unclear. The only thing I’m certain of is that change will come again. That uncertainty will eventually lead to certainty in some way. Who knows what tomorrow will bring as everything old becomes new, once again.
Image courtesy @phoenixfeatherscalligraphy for C+C, 2020