P-A-R-K

I took my first baby to the p-a–r-k this morning (if you have a dog, you most likely know those certain words that just need to be spelled out unless you are truly prepared to follow through on what the word means). It has been longer than I care to admit since we’ve been there together. And even longer since we’ve been there together, just us. No distractions, no littles to corral, or protect, or put the mitten back on that has fallen off every 10 steps for the last hour. Just us. 

As I watched him bound down the path, jowls flapping in the breeze, I was hit in the chest with the most complicated, profound feeling. It felt familiar. I started walking, feeling the little gravel pebbles through my go-to-for-everything sneakers. I became so aware of my body. It was just mine. No baby growing inside, no baby dangling from my arms, strapped to my chest, or bouncing upon my shoulders. I felt so light, so myself. I remember this. It’s been a long time since I was here. In this body, in this headspace, in this place. It felt like I was with an old friend that I hadn’t seen, or even talked to, in years. You know? That person you lost touch with, but know that there is always love there. That any time you reconnect with this person, you pick back up like no time has passed, like nothing and everything has changed at the same time. I love that.

I did my best to be in the present where I was. With this step, then with that step. With this thought, then with that thought. As I pulled on the blue knit hat I made and wore when I was fresh out of school, I felt a wave of grief. A sadness. Missing how things used to be, back when my slobbery dude and I would take these walks regularly. Just us. Feeling guilty for neglecting this for so long. For allowing me to go so long without connecting with this version of myself. Damn I like her. Missed her. Feeling sorry for forgetting about her. 

I walked and watched these thoughts and feelings float by, curious as to what would come next. Not feeling like I needed to do anything to make the moment pass faster or slower. Not needing to do anything about any of it. And just like that: Gratitude. Deep, rooting, anchoring gratitude came. Feeling immeasurably grateful for this moment, for all that has been, all that is, and all that will be. Thankful for all the messiness, the uncertainty, the shortcomings, the compromises, the work done and left to do. Proud, terrified, strong, small, empowered, anxious, insecure, hopeful.  All of it. 

A feeling of possibility came last. A sense of connectedness, community, and unspoken understanding. A promise of linking my old self with my current self. Stretching all the way to my future self. It’s all there. None of it is lost. 

Motherhood has brought me immeasurable gifts: the insane ability to do pretty much anything single-handed, more love than I could ever imagine, and seeing the world through fresh eyes. It has also brought me challenges: nearly always putting the needs of my hooligans before my own, riding the constant wave of uncertainty (and seemingly never ending worry), and sometimes losing sight of who I am. 

Being a parent is the ultimate test of adaptability. Kids change all the time, and so too, we change to meet their needs. As we change, as we adapt, may we stay connected with ourselves (including that chick we used to be way back when). 

If you can, take yourself to the p-a-r-k somewhere today.