shifting gears

icehouse pond, west tisbury

A tractor is out cutting the hayfield next door. While my eyes itch, my nose thrills with the earthy, sunbaked smells of shorn mint and bee balm. I'm hoping the milkweed that edges the field remains as it's become a Monarch Highway of sorts. Each day I practice yoga or play ping pong with one of the kids, I watch the orange and black wings flit and float through green oval shaped leaves. My pulse drops and an interior smile spreads across my belly as these talismans of the "other side" dance and lay their eggs. I go still against their almost constant movement, for a butterfly never rests for long.

Inside of these predictable rhythms of New England's August, like the second cutting of hay, earlier golden sunsets and chillier sweater wearing mornings, the path ahead looks wildly different than last year at this time. Instead of returning to PSU, Elsa is taking a gap year and joining Dave and me for our stint in New Haven to cheer on Harry during his last football season. And beyond that Elsa's path is unclear but gaining traction as she charts her course in the things that spike her curiosity. Ski instructor or mountain resort worker, EMT certification, chemistry courses, au pair, oh my.

As Elsa changes her course, I realize I'm changing mine as well. This past spring the pang of not being present to Harry's final season hit me like an arrow to the gut. I'd missed too many games, meets and matches of all the kids over the last six years and this year I decided to create an opportunity and show up like I hadn't before. Even if I'm just sitting on the bleachers wearing gold and blue, waving a pom pom and blowing a plastic horn, I'll get to be a part of something that's been missing. I'll join the parents who are probably sick of attending game after game, year after year in rain or shine. And to think that these shifts in plans, my own and my daughter's, have aligned for the coming fall feels apropos. We're both listening to our needs and desires, what's missing and what's possible.

Switching gears isn't for the weary. Not returning home after almost three months gone has its ups and downs. There are the friends I miss, along with the aqua waters and flamboyant tree blooms who knock me out with their fire red glow. The dead calm and heat stunned stillness. My bathtub and morning pages in the swing looking out over Hull Bay. The weekly garden yoga and feeding of the horses. And there's also the role that's being altered. An empty nester for the last three years, at times kicking and screaming, I now gain a child back for at least part of this year and will be twenty minutes from Harry's campus for the fall. These changes in plans come with their own perks and conundrums.

There's that feeling again of both/and. A bit of guilt I didn't relocate for my other kids, as well as excitement that I finally figured out I could. At least Harry will have family on the sidelines for a season as we all close out our family's tenure at Choate. Last Parents' Weekend, last games, last graduation. Wallingford/New Haven here we come!

And then there's the question of how do I stand by and support Elsa as she rubs sticks together to see what sparks? I can't do things for her, but must trust her to figure things out. Mothering my adult daughter at home, while all her friends are at school, is new terrain. Sort of like sitting on your hands, wearing duct tape on your mouth, wondering if they need the map resting in your lap.

And then there's the mothering of another adult child on the other side of the country. While the rest of us have been summering on MV, Hugh's returned to LA, adulting in his first apartment, making things legit with a California driver's license and creating a team in preparation for his first short film. He's done the moving, the managing and making things happen on his own, and yet doesn't he get a slice of the mother pie? The least I can do is go out there and buy him some plants or flea market finds or, if I'm lucky, scout some wardrobe or shooting locations.

Needless to say, I'm in a new chapter of mothering and the terrain will keep changing. Holding on and trailblazing simultaneously. Keeping my course as gears shift. Grateful to be on the ride.

And for those of you who like my mingling of life and astrology, feel free to read on (and let me know if it makes sense and if you enjoy my short telling of the stars). While last month's post spoke about abundance and things lining up due to the basket formation of the outer planets, this month has had more of a push-me-pull-me-in-many-directions feel. We're between last week's solar eclipse (new moon in Leo) and next week's lunar eclipse (full moon in Pisces), also known as the eclipse corridor, which is stirring some realizations as well as asking us to figure out what seeds need to spread and shine and what seeds might need composting. Questions might be coming up in regards to our own vitality and personal will, what is good for the collective vs. individual, leadership vs. autonomy. But the short and sweet of it is this is a time of murkiness in the throws of trying to figure things out, digging hands into the soil and "seeing/feeling" what's there, choosing if you're going to pull things to the surface or let them be a little longer. Tensions exists, along with questions, as well as potential catharses. Eclipse season brings sensitivity to the day-to-day and there's a lot to discern in the process. And we will come out on the other side.

May the illuminations and shifts be (peacefully) with you,

St. Sunshine