"I think earth, if chosen instead of Heaven, will turn out to have been, all along, only a region in Hell: and earth, if put second to Heaven, to have been from the beginning a part of Heaven itself." -CS Lewis, The Great Divorce

11.30.2009

Thing #23: feelin' fine

I have an REM lyric stuck in my head that goes, "it's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine." You may have heard it before. In case you did not, a pink-haired, brace-faced Gwen Stefani sang it on New Year's Eve 1999 on MTV. You may be able to youTube it, but you may not.

Anyway, the song itself is unimportant, but the line is not.

I have moments of awareness when I realize that things have changed irrevocably. I always think that I'll catch the moment that things change, like it's a spontaneous sort of switch, but it's not. It's gradual, and we wake up one day and realize, "Oh, things will never actually be the same."

I realized that at Thanksgiving this year. It was my first holiday not living or staying at my parents' house, and it was weird. Drew and I both ate two Thanskgivings, and though we retained the Midland traditions, it's clear that things have shifted. We've grown up, and we're beginning to ease into our new adult patterns that will require balancing multiple families and multiple traditions. We've reached a new stage in our lives where it's no longer just us, the four Midlands; it's the Midlands plus others. It's different. And I recognize that this new different will become our old pattern in a matter of years. The change has occurred, silently but somehow swiftly. We are adults.

Similarly, I realize that my parents and grandparents are simultaneously altering in my perceptions. Grandma Pat's surgery tomorrow and Grandpa Dale's recently placed pace-maker are both doses of reality. As my previous entry states, we are not actually invincible, and the people we love are surprisingly fragile. Everyone seems to be reaching an age where doctor's visits are approached with greater caution and irregular test results can spell disaster. It's humbling to know that my heroes are human.

But, despite the lump in my throat as I write this, "I feel fine." I have been raised for this adulthood business, and I know my parents were raised to be strong and courageous support systems for their parents who have been supportive of them. We are a web, interconnected and stronger because of it. And our web gets bigger, too. While I am sad to have missed saying goodbye to childhood, I know that this will be good. Maybe even better. Definitely better.

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