Skip to main content

Changing Time Zones



Changing Time Zones
Last summer we drove to California and changed time zones three times.  It was quite amusing.  Where are we now?  What time is it?  Why did it change?  It’s also quite intriguing.  We have four zones in this one country.   This spring when we traveled to Georgia the kids were surprised that we didn’t change time zones.
It’s easy to change time zones.  Gain an hour, lose an hour… it all goes back together again eventually.  For a day or two that you are in a new place you wonder what time is it REALLY, but you change your watch, your phone already knows, and you reset your mind to accept the new time. 
Same with the seasons.   The process becomes easy to accept when that first warm breeze blows after a long winter, even if you didn’t get in that one last ski trip and you realize that you will be packing up the skis and boots not putting them on again as you had hoped.  But you know that it will come around again eventually.  The spring sounds will pass into summer afternoons and into fall winds and the skis will come out and you will ski again.
It’s not so easy with children.  We live in the same time zone with them day after day.  That first Time Zone, that seems to last forever and isn’t all that easy, but we remember the good parts.  The time zone of napping and eating, bottle and breast.  The time zone of firsts, walks and words.  The time zone of holding little hands and books.  The time zones of surprise looks and surprise sayings.  The time zone of friends and fearless play.   Yet all these things happen on our vigil – our watch, and we can participate and listen and laugh.
Then all too suddenly we drive through the night and wake up in another time zone, another land that does not look like home.  School years. Away for the day years.  Sleepover years.   We are still vigilant, still listening, still there, but it’s as if it’s through a closed door.  We hear some of what happens, try to put the pieces together, and try our best to make sense of it.  It’s a different language now, one that we are not always familiar with and one that we often misinterpret, the looks, the words, the feelings that we are not privy to.
Suddenly the little baby you brought home from the hospital was a little boy and is now a young man and he leans down to kiss you goodbye when he walks out the door.   He has new dreams and new conversations and new friends and new aspirations.   He no longer wants just to live at home forever, which, although you knew that wouldn’t happen, now it seems like a perfectly fine idea.  He talks of going places you’ve never been, doing things you’ve never done.  And your mind is wondering how did we get here?  What did I miss?  And your heart is saying “I think I forgot something.  I have to go home now.  Can we turn around? Cross into the other time zone?”  But you can’t.  You go on and you keep up with the race because the speed limit is different in this time zone too.  It’s going faster every day and we’re getting closer to the next time zone, when he will leave the house and well, you don’t even want to think about it.
When I wake up now, I hear the sounds of big footsteps on the stairs, no longer the pitter-patter of little jammied feet crossing the floor.  I watch as three kids who used to huddle into a small pillow on the couch now jostle and jab each other for their own space to make room on the couch.  Instead of car seats, I only check for seat belts.  Instead of baby bowls and cut-up meat, I check for manners at the table.  Instead of taking them all to the park, I wait at home keeping vigil for when they each return from their various practices.   Instead of hiring a babysitter, I’m the one at home waiting for them to return from their night out.
JJ goes to high school next year, and he is going to school in Philadelphia.  He’s going to be gone for a long day.  Other mothers are telling me to be prepared.  You won’t see him, they say.  He’ll be gone from 7am-6pm, his father’s work schedule.  Only how do I prepare for this?   Oh, they love it! the mothers say, he’ll be fine, they assure me.  It’s such a wonderful school!  So I’m trying to accept this and smile and keep up and say Yes, we are in a new time zone, but I’m homesick already.
So I know I shouldn’t be questioning, What time is it REALLY?  But when I have a few minutes, it is fun to look back and say, Remember?  Remember when you used to hang on the front door, just waiting until you could get outside?  I have a picture of you hanging onto the window when you could barely stand, looking out over the front porch on First Avenue, just wondering what was out there that you could do.   A memory from another Time Zone.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bundling

 My husband accuses me of bundling. Like everything. I won't go down the basement until I have collected a pile of everything that could possibly need to go down. So I'll bring the laundry down to the kitchen and then I'll start bundling. The old front door wreath goes on top of the laundry, The drill I used in the garden yesterday - on top. The Fourth of July banner on top of that. I can amass quite a pile. The same goes when I'm out doing errands. I have a doctor's appointment in Mt. Laurel? Hmm. I can stop at the Home Sense store, the big Dollar Tree, the Produce Junction, the Michaels, and the Container Store. All on my way home! I like bundling. Not just because it saves trips, which equates to gas, but it also saves my energy. If I separated those trips it would be hours or even days of travel. I don't have time for that. When I can I want to tie everything together and wrap it up. With a pretty bow.  Bundling was an act of desperation back when the kids w...

What Is Grief?

 What is grief? It is standing in the shower and  you are suddenly crying and then you are sobbing. And you barely thought about it in the two days since you heard  your Uncle Rich passed. You thought about your dad and your cousins and your aunt and how sad they must be and you checked in on your dad. "I'm so so sorry." And you went to work and you did what you had to do. And now you are ready for another day and you are thinking of all the things and then you are crying and you are little again and vulnerable  and your heart hurts. And you remember everyone. Medford Lakes and a swimming pool and laughing so hard  and dancing around a Christmas tree and fireworks by the lake at night. And you can see his face and all their faces smiling Aunts and uncles and cousins and brothers who aren't here. And you remember his voice, deep and laughing, and you remember his kindness and his advice. "Are you taking vitamin C, Joannie?" You see all their faces and you mis...

Changing Seasons

Today is the first day back to school after break.   We are breaking into my mother’s house to steal an Ugly Sweater at 5 in the morning because it is Ugly Sweater Day and we have driven home from a gathering through the night up and down hilly, unlit, back roads where we saw a family of deer who spoke to us to tell us we were on the wrong road and they directed us back to a traffic-filled highway and on the roof we have tied some old evergreen branches that we will try to form into a tree because we forgot to get a Christmas tree when we had to take my son to the emergency room because he was spouting blood from his finger and while we were there my other son had a bloody nose and they were going to take him into surgery… But then I woke up.   The first day of school is not until tomorrow.   Today is January 4.   It is the Changing of Seasons around here.    Changing from the season of sleeping in and wearing pajamas, drinking 5 cups of coffee, some w...