Stephany Toman
You know
how great it feels when you've reached an enormous life goal? When
you've, in spite of countless bumps in the road, stuck to it,
principles intact, 'til the end has been reached?
I'm
there.
Within a
month, my nest will empty. And I'm looking back at the decades
leading up to this moment with wonder, awe, pride, an unbelievable
sense of accomplishment, and a bit (ok maybe quite a bit right
now) of melancholy.
My kids
are, well, amazing. They're bright and focused and capable and funny
and absolutely ready for what comes next. For my son, that means
taking his first post-college job, in Abu Dhabi. As a staff member at
NYU's newest international branch. For my daughter, it means heading
to the East coast to play Division 1 soccer and pursue the next phase
of her education (under the tutelage of Dominican Friars who we're
assured are most proud of the outstanding academics they offer and
who are determined to continue that tradition.)
So
they're going to be great. Both of them. They'll encounter life's
little obstacles from time to time, but I have no doubt they'll not
only survive well, but thrive regardless where they're planted.
Right
now, as they realize some of their first big dreams, I'm feeling
tossed about by the emotions that currently churn, and while I admit
to feeling nauseous from time to time, the overall sensation is one
of standing on a high dive for the first time, gripping the end with
my toes, just before the jump. I know the fall is going to be
breathtaking, but when my head bobs back up after I've kicked hard
and broken the surface again, I'll be one elated Mama.
I want a
massage. I need my friends. I want a pedicure. Beach books,
meditation, distraction of the superficial variety are welcome, as
are long runs, chocolate in its darkest form, glasses of wine at
sunset and yoga sessions at regular intervals.
Transition
evokes many reactions. Clearly mine right now involve using swimming
metaphors and embracing life's simple and sensual pleasures to cope.
In the last month, my son graduated from NYU, my daughter graduated
from Sandia Prep high school, my mom visited for a week and we hosted
the single largest event ever to
celebrate.
And
did I mention that my nest will be emptying in a very short time?
While
on final approach to the empty nest event, I've discovered a few
reassuring things. Like, that we've prepared our kids for the big
world, which means their desire to fly away is healthy and good.
Like, that we have lives outside of those centered exclusively on our
kiddos. That's a good thing, too. After all, while raising them
requires and deserves considerable energy and effort, developing other interests
(and full-fledged careers) along the way has been important as well.
Like, our marriage is strong and communication is good and we have a
long future ahead as a couple with grown children, and for that I am
thankful. Like, we have our own interests. Writing, reading,
exploring long-shelved hobbies, developing artistic talent, these are
among our future pursuits.
When
I anticipate how life will change, my concerns stem from a sense of
emptiness befalling our house. There is, on a daily basis, activity
from very early to very late. The sound of my daughter showering, the
easy camaraderie at breakfast and dinner, the banter between her and
her dad, the general fullness of literal, and figurative space in our
home...will ebb. Her bathroom will go virtually unused until she or
her brother return once more, a concept too strange to fathom given
the number of territorial skirmishes that have been waged through the
years. I will no longer have to dash in there prior to company coming
and tidy up the scrunchies and vitamins and earrings and chapsticks
and sundry daily necessities that typically adorn the vanity. And the
floor will be free of yesterday's outfits, again, unfathomable after
so many years with comfortable domestic chaos ruling.
I
also yearn in advance for shopping/lunch outings with her. She's fun
to be with, manages to lighten my mood regardless of what weights it
down, and has great taste. She has saved me from a multitude of
potentially bad fashion choices through the years, and her absence
from these expeditions will be deeply felt. And I will certainly
falter from time to time, so my friends and colleagues should prepare
now. There is a chance, without my daughter's guidance, I'll commit a
fashion faux pas from time to time. Be kind to me, be gentle,
friends, and feel free to provide the constructive feedback she so
freely shares.
Son
also shares, mostly a daily update on how life is going, how he's
preparing for the next steps. Now he'll be communicating from around
the world, and the dailiness (usually coinciding with my mid-morning
coffee) will give way to weekly contacts via Skype. While we've had
time to adjust to him being away during his college years, around the
world feels much more official for some reason. We'll adapt, of
course, but it will take time.
As
my progeny explore their lives and begin to realize dreams, I find
myself exploring my own dusty dreams, and wonder which of them
deserve to be carefully revived, nurtured and tended until they reach
fruition. I know that writing a novel has been part of those dustier
dreams for quite awhile, so I'll most likely unearth the 130 pages of
murder mystery I began over a decade ago to determine whether it has
literary merit of any sort, or if an entirely new attempt is the only
way to go.
Volunteering
for a local Planned Parenthood is also on my horizon, I think. I've
always believed in and supported their efforts, and would enjoy doing
so in person now that I'll have more free time. I have a big mouth, a
lot of energy, conviction for their cause, and love nothing better
than to communicate in person and on paper. Perhaps they'll find a
place to use my .02 from time to time. I think that would be lovely.
Additionally,
grant writing may surface once more as a way to use my skills for
non-profit good. Early in my Professional Writing sequence at the
University I wrote a capital acquisition grant for All Faiths
Receiving Home, and one of my proudest moments came when the Director
called me and told me they'd been granted the funds. It was great
news, and with that money they were able to make some critical
capital improvements. While it may sound selfish on some level, I
would not mind working toward a positive end like that once more.
Developing
my yoga practice into a more regular, established part of my life
will also be a priority. The benefits are measurable, enjoyable, and
significant for me, and will surely ease this transition in my life
in a most positive way.
For
now, perched on the edge of that high dive, toes curled over the end,
I intend to enjoy massages as often as possible, to address my
spiritual needs with meditation, yoga and the company of good
friends, and to allow myself an indulgence from time to time, most
likely in the form of brightly colored pedicures and the occasional
splurge of a fun pair of shoes.
I'm
that shallow. But I'm ok with that. Because in the end, I will kick
to the surface, perhaps spluttering a bit, but ready for the next
phase of a life in endless transition.
