It is late morning on a Monday, the first day of December. I turn 38 years old tomorrow and somehow I don’t feel troubled by that at all. My home is in a pinch of Christmas decorations and a scoopful of life cluttered chaos. My chore list for the day involve vacuuming the dog and playing at the mall’s playground. Approximately two seconds ago there was a suspiciously loud silence that erupted from my bedroom that most assuredly originated from a 3 year old’s epicenter.
I just drink my tea.
On my last day of a 37 year old, the only thing I know with certainty is that I don’t know much of anything at all and I’m certainly okay with that. I know more now than I ever did as freshly graduated high student, though I do know less than I did when I graduated with my BA in English Teaching. I am slightly wiser with my M.Ed. but bit more foolish than someone with no degrees at all. I have more confidence than I did when I spent the first night with my first baby at home without any nurses but I most assuredly am more perplexed with my second child than I ever was with my first.
I am at a loss when I watch the world’s events spin out of control but I know exactly what I am doing when I guide my children through their daily events. I still am unable to complete basic arithmetic without using my fingers most of the time but I can multiply love and food without thinking whenever it is needed.
I won’t ever have an answer to the question “Why do bad things happen to good people?” but I am always sure when I say “I don’t know why bad things happen but I do know it gives me a chance to do good things for these people.” I’m not certain why my struggles feel harder on some days but I know that I am grateful for the days when they don’t.
There is far too much time wasted looking for certainty when the seconds move for a reason. Even now I watch the second hand tick by and the dog is chasing after a water bottle lid. Wild giggles are running down the hallway. A plane flies by overhead. Life moves along at a steady pace and we move along with it. At some point I will teach myself to knit, my son will clean his room, my daughter will stop asking ‘why?’, the dog will stop eating kleenex. My husband might start picking up his socks.
The sun will set and rise again. The day will start again and this might be the only thing that we know will happen with certainty. I feel quite at peace with that.
I’ll just drink my tea.