March 2024 SOLC–Day 9
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My youngest daughter loved to sleep in our bed. As she got older, my husband and I used to worry about it. Should we say “No”? Is she too old? Eventually, we fell back on that age old wisdom, “Well, she’s not going to be sleeping in our bed forever.” As the time between her nighttime visits stretched out, I began to wonder each time, Will this be the last time?, and then I didn’t mind the extra limbs and limited space so much.
Winter is still here, but you can feel it loosening its grip. It’s been tame this season, and I’ve missed the winter scenery–the geometry of ice on the river, snow covered fields, the fleeting, deep blue that lingers within mounds of snow.
Over the past week or so, I’ve found eyes lingering on the trees. I love to see them snow-dusted after a storm, but even without the snow, I adore the network of bare branches visible in the winter. It’s only in recent years that I’ve come to recognize that I actually prefer the winter version of trees. They hint at the symmetry of roots underground, frame the sky, and reveal the birds. Their interlocking branches feel both stark and majestic. I know those limbs will disappear soon, gradually hidden by the spring growth of lush green leaves.
I’m nostalgic today, I guess, missing things that are long gone, and missing other things before they’ve even gone. My daughter is 26 now and it’s been a long, long time since she slept in our bed. Ultimately, we didn’t even notice when that last time happened. And now, even while my eyes linger on those glorious winter trees, I’m recognizing their transience, already missing them.
It’s so difficult to recognize a last time while it’s happening. As I get older, I’m more and more aware of the fleeting nature of everything. I know that “last times” are approaching, or perhaps even passing me by right now, unnoticed until later.
I’m trying to think of this increased awareness as a gift, a reminder to appreciate things while we still have them, while they’re still here.
Nix the comfort zone 
I liked your post very much and I related to all that you expressed. Thank you.
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Thanks, Lakshmi! I really enjoyed your post today, too. I think there was a common thread that ran through them.
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Beautifully written post. I could experience the feelings you wrote about.
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Thanks, Terje. I sensed some similar feelings in your post today.
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The comparison between the tree limbs and your daughters is wonderful. Yesterday, I found myself feeling sad winter was ending because I don’t think I appreciated it while the snow was here, expected more as always. You’re right that it is a gift to be aware of a “last time”
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It definitely feels like winter’s on its way out, without having really ever arrived. So odd.
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I love how you wove your thoughts throughout your nostalgia with the comparisons. For whatever reason, I love photographing bare trees and dead trees…perhaps it’s the network you mentioned or that last moment. Cool tree photo. ;) Your story has left me thinking…
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Somewhere I actually have one of those wood blocks (from middle school maybe) into which I burnt/drew a winter tree. And one of my few remaining artworks from that time is a painting of a bare tree seen through a window frame. I guess that’s proof that bare trees have been a life long preference of mine, but one I didn’t fully recognize until recently.
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I love this, and I feel it, too. With a moment’s thought I can pull up multiple times that were the last, and I didn’t know it then. Thank you for the reminders to be more present because you just don’t know.
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Being present is such a challenge, isn’t it? Of course, sometimes it’s thinking about transience in the moment of something happening that enhances that experience.
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A favorite sentence – “Winter is still here, but you can feel it loosening its grip.” Last things? At 76, I realize there are people I will never see again, mostly because of distance. I’m okay with that. We had our time! We’ve made memories. Now is the time I have.
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Such a positive, healthy attitude, Dan!
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Thanks for sharing. I love the description of the trees and the way you linked it to your daughter.
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This is a gift of a post. It’s funny that I didn’t realize that there are pieces of winter that I miss when they’re gone. Usually by the end of winter I’m rooting so hard for spring to take over, but really the trees are more majestic and heroic in the winter. I have a favorite oak tree whose helter skelter branches have always amazed me. I think I relate better to that style of branches than the more regular form of some other trees.
At first I was thinking this post was a departure from your earlier themes, but now I’m seeing that maybe slowing the march of time is a thread that runs through many of these posts. I can definitely relate.
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Thanks! Sometimes it’s hard to see the threads that run through one’s own writing. Time is definitely marching on…This morning it even skipped forward, which is irritating me no end!
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I love how you weave your daughter growing up and the seasons of the trees. I join your pondering – this life goes by so fast and I too try to anticipate last moments. Then I turn and try to concentrate on the now. That tree photo is spectacular!
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I’m with you on the back and forth between anticipating and appreciating!
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I absolutely love the intertwined stories of tree limbs and kid limbs, of wanting what you don’t have, of remembering and not remembering…so beautiful! I also love waking up to read your posts before my day begins, even if I don’t get to responding until the end of the day.
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Thanks, Kim! I so appreciate your reading and commenting. I’m loving participating this year, but struggling to keep up with reading and commenting. As report card writing and conferences hit, it’s going to get even harder! Ack!
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Wow, this moved me. I try to enjoy parenting without the constant weight of grief, for everything I notice is changing. I look at photos of my baby when she was barely 10 lb, and I miss her. Thank you for writing so beautifully about your own journey and sharing it; it warmed my heart!
I also agree with all the comments here. Your description of winter is inspiring! I’ve never experienced it, but the details made me envision it so clearly. What a powerful post!
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Thanks, Ana! I love experiencing four full seasons, though Winter was a bit absent this year. Also, I’m so excited to meet you this summer at the retreat! I am hoping though, that winter will be fully offstage at that point.
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I am, too! A friend of mine (the one who got me on board with this year’s SOC challenge) is also coming. We booked tickets and are now figuring out accommodations.
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This is my second time reading this post. I needed to let it sink in. I’m trying to practice presence knowing each moment is the best moment. Especially with our grandchildren and most certainly with our mothers who are slipping slowly away. It’s melancholy and joy, fear and grace, loss and gifts. A delicate balance.
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A delicate balance, indeed.
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