just beyond our grasp

David and I both knew how important it was for me to be home with our children when they were young. In order to allow me that opportunity, we made a lot of sacrifices. One of them was having only one car for many years. To many people that isn't a sacrifice at all, but for two California kids who each owned their own car from the time they were 16-year-olds, this was an adjustment.

Our home at the time, in Placentia, California was in a neighborhood that backed up to a park. On the cusp of the park was the little school that Emily attended and walking her to Kindergarten was part of a morning routine that many people in our household enjoyed. This was the journey we would make to the school. We would walk to the edge of the neighborhood and then through the park on a winding sidewalk and finally across the blacktop to the kindergarten gate. Walking this route took us around the big open grass field.

Austin was an active 3-year-old at the time, so for him this was an opportunity to make the most of his Big Wheel skills. Weaving along the sidewalk was his morning exercise and he embraced it with enthusiasm. Looking back today, I would love to know what was running through his mind as his imagination fueled his legs into a peddling frenzy.

Molly and Adam were only 10 and 1/2 months apart in age (feel free to send comments on that issue to davesill@what-was-i-thinking.com) and so they would travel in their double stroller. Because Molly was "developmentally delayed" and never did walk without holding someone's hand, the double stroller was such a necessity that we had two of them, one in the car and one in the large entry way of the house. (Some day, I will share with my Grandchildren the "joys" of having to get a double stroller out of the car and load two sleeping babies into it--just to "run" into the Post Office and buy stamps. Uphill, both ways, in the snow...). For me, the walk was 20 minutes to not think about laundry, bottles, diapers, Barney the purple dinosaur, Hooked on Phonics, or how I hadn't made time to read my bible in 3 days. (Side note: Now, I would give my left kidney to spend 20 minutes in that world of sippy-cups and storybooks)

We didn't walk every morning. Occasionally, David would have to return from work to drive Emily over to the front entrance of the school due to rain, or I would have to call the neighbor and ask her to walk Emily due to one of the other kids being sick. I have a vivid memory of one such morning. Adam was sleeping when he wasn't supposed to be sleeping and even though I depended on a set schedule for survival, I also knew that breaking that law of "Never Wake A Sleeping Baby" is a Cardinal Sin. I called on the neighbor for her help and then explained to Austin that we would go for a walk later, when Adam was awake. Of course, then I had to also explain to him, that "No, we cannot just lock the door and leave him at home." (All 3-year-olds have the innate ability to think like meth addicts.) I watched from the porch as Emily made her way to the neighbors door and then watched as the nice lady walked the two little girls to school. Problem solved and Cardinal Sin averted. I walked back into the house and Molly was at the gate that prevented her from getting into the Living room and to the steep stairs. She was standing at the gate and shaking it. Reaching to me with a look of agitation in her eyes. Obviously she wanted to get to the other side. I lifted her over--thinking she wanted me to hold her, but she immediately wanted to be put down. She crawled quickly to the double stroller and pulled herself up and began to try to pull it to the front door, while reaching for the doorknob. She was not happy that we were missing this morning walk. She was used to this routine, this time spent in nature as we walked through the park. Again, looking back today, what I wouldn't give to know what was running through her mind as she took in the sights of the trees and the sounds of the birds.

The day that stands out the most is the day that Emily decided she wanted to walk alone. She didn't want us to walk her along the sidewalk and through the park. Now, anyone who knows the adult Emily will think I am making this part up. This is not like her today. She enjoys doing things with people, with friends and family. (Some call her an extrovert, being that I am an introvert--I like to teasingly call her codependent!) But, at age 5, on this day--this is what she claimed she wanted. She wanted to walk across the big open grassy field alone. And, so I agreed. We loaded up on Big Wheel and Stroller and walked through the neighborhood and to the edge of the park and stopped. And we waited as she trudged across the wide field. I watched my little girl in her red print dress get smaller and smaller. Every 10 feet or so, she would turn her head and look back and I would raise my hand and wave. She looked so small and seeing her so far from my grasp actually stung a little. She made it across the grass, then she crossed the blacktop and reached the gate , and finally, entered the Kindergarten playground. We made our way around the block to have our walk without her and then made our way home. I remember thinking that things would be different if she didn't need me to do this anymore. It was the first step to her independence from me.

Later that day, when I reached the Kindergarten gate to pick up my 5-year-old, the teacher, Mrs. Trigsted wanted to know if something had happened at home, before school. I tried to think of the morning at home, the routine battles that at the time feel enormous, but later are hard to even grasp. I asked her, "Why? Did Emily say something?"

She went on to tell me that when Emily came onto the playground this morning she was crying. She was crying very hard and she wouldn't tell anyone why. I knew immediately. She wasn't ready. She had claimed that she wanted to walk alone, but she only thought that was what she wanted. In her desire for independence she had reached beyond what she was ready to handle. I hadn't made a mistake in letting her, she would be okay. But, her reach had been more than she could bear.

The next day we returned to our familiar morning walk from the porch of the house, through the neighborhood, to the edge of the park, along the winding sidewalk, across the blacktop and to the gate. For a little while, anyway.

"We are reaching for the future

We are reaching for the past

And no matter what we have, we reach for more

We are desperate to discover

What is just beyond our grasp...

Maybe that's what Heaven is for"

--Reaching, by Caroline Aherne