If nostalgia were a condition I would definitely be considered afflicted by it. I constantly look back to the past, fondly. I am not really one who resides in the past, though. One of my favorite things to say is, "These are the good old days."
Lately I've been very nostalgic for different times. School, family get togethers, having little babies, going to stores, feeling "normal." I miss crazy stuff, like driving to work and listening to our books. It's so strange because mornings could feel like a battle. Once I hit the I-90 with both of you dressed, fed, backpacks loaded, water bottles filled, and lunches packed I would feel a great sense of relief and anticipation of the great day we were all about to have. I loved walking up to my classroom with both of you as you greeted and hung out with your cousins. Some days with Little Brother and Cousin Kitt pretending they were puppies. Finn and Baby Waider caring for and talking to Pete and Ginger. Auntie popping in with Mrs. K. or Miss Selfridge to ask a question or just chat. Once it was time it was always so sweet to watch the four of you march off to the playground or the gym, ready to see your classmates, teachers, and learn! I feel really nostalgic for the hectic mornings that ended once we would hear Mr. Dschaak say the pledge and our days would start, separately-together.
I also feel nostalgic for the end of the day when you would all four report back, maybe a little wild, asking for snack, or to see Aunt Becky. You would RARELY do homework because you wanted to chat or play school. You loved your time with your cousins. It's so strange not seeing them all the time. I miss the time in the car on the drive home. Sometimes Little Brother would drift off to sleep listening to our book after having an exhausting day of kindergarten. It was always fun to hear a bit about what Baby Waider did that day because I probably did the same thing while I was teaching. I loved hearing your perspective of the things we do.
During the school day I miss strange things, like reading with a student and having them decode a really difficult word on their own. I miss the five minutes before lunch when I would read a story aloud or listen to kids tell me stories. I miss the time right after math and right before reading when we would celebrate when we learned for math and got ready for the more peaceful reading block time.
I'm nostalgic for lunch with the other teachers. I would always look forward to sending the students off for their time of eating with friends and recess while the teachers and I would laugh, tell stories, or solve world problems. I miss the moment when the kids would all come in from lunch recess, rosey cheeks, the smell of cold, fresh-air and sweat pouring off of them. All smiles and ready for part two of our day. I even miss hearing about recess issues and solving them with apologies and explanations. I miss dance parties, making up songs, laughing, story telling, excitement, working hard and seeing results. I miss checklists, fun pens, writing time, and read aloud. After spending 37 years (minus summers) in a classroom since starting Kindergarten I am experiencing a special kind of mourning. I miss so much about school.
Yesterday I headed out on my afternoon walk. Mavis reminds me daily that we have to go on our walk at 3PM. It usually forces me away from my computer.One nice part about the quarantine is that I have lots of time to take long walks. We usually take a 3 mile walk. We live near where I grew up so lots of the landmarks take me back to when I was a kid. I regularly walk by what used to be the old Robbinsdale Pool. Talk about nostalgia! Your uncle Kelly and I spent entire summers riding our bikes to this rectangle pool with friends, daycare kids, and neighbors. I feel like Auntie Katie was a little too young to join us. It was tiny by today's pool standards, and it had a terrifying high dive and a low diving board. There wasn't much of a pool deck. Since it was the 1980's most parents just sent their kids to the pool so there were a few pool chairs, but you didn't really need them anyway. Once we finally got into the pool, for some reason there was always a really long line, we would run into the pool area, throw our towels onto the cement deck, kick off our flip flops and dive into the arctic cold pool. I am not sure why, but that pool was ridiculously cold. If it was not crowded (it was probably cold, cloudy, or windy) then we could throw a penny and dive for it, play Marco Polo, or stand in line for hours at the two diving boards. I have two memories of the high dive. 1. I remember doing the high dive. It was amazing. You couldn't help but feeling like a real badass jumping off of it into the 10 feet deep pool. The smack of that cold water was verification that you were officially part of a club that gave you a considerable amount of street credit. "Ya. I've done the high dive at Robbinsdale Pool." 2. I remember watching friends, none specifically, that would crawl up the infinitely high ladder of that high dive, walk over to the edge, peer over the edge, turn around, and go back down that legendary ladder. I would always feel partly sad for them and partly happy for myself that I was a badass and had achieved something others could not. The sadness I felt for them was that they would not yet know the exhilaration of feeling the smack of that cold water and excitement of emerging from several feet under water, gasping for air, stomach trying to right itself. As I walked Mavis yesterday I remembered the busy days at Robbinsdale Pool when all you could do is bob up and down in place because you were literally shoulder to shoulder with other children in the pool. The water eerily warm probably due to the extra kids peeing in it. I actually laughed out loud as I vividly remembered the sign at the entrance of the pool. It said, "Welcome to our OOL. Notice it has no P in it. Please keep it that way." I always thought that was so clever. My walk down memory lane did not seem this long in my mind, but I really did live back at Robbinsdale Pool for quite a spell yesterday. It seemed so vivid that I could almost touch it. I remembered giggling, laying on my stomach, arms pulled under, laying soaking wet on hot concrete, shivering, eyes squinting from the sun, just praying to warm up from the frigid water. Let me tell you, kids, there is cold, and then there is Robbinsdale Pool in June cold. It was real. As I turned the corner to start heading back at South Middle School my mind went to the end of the pool trips. If we were lucky they all ended the same. Grandma Halter would awesomely round up enough cash for us to buy a Hawaiian Shaved Ice from the stand that resided outside the pool. I'm sure in your mind you are saying, "If the pool was so cold, why in the world would you get a shaved ice after swimming in it?" The answer to this is simple. It. Was. Amazing. I would get 1. Pina Colada and Root-beer or 2. Banana and Root-beer or 3. Banana and Pina Colada. It usually depended upon what they had available. Once we had our shaved ice we would begin our trek home. Pushing my banana seat bike, balancing a delicious shaved ice, wearing flip flops, and a damp town draped across one shoulder all while wearing a wet swimsuit. Yesterday, I approached the place where when I was a kid we would turn and go up what I remember as a HUGE hill.
What I considered to be a huge hill when I was little.
I decided to continue my walk down memory lane and turned to go up that HUGE hill. I figured it would raise my heart rate. I realized that the hill isn't really that huge and also that for some reason we would always walk home in the middle of the street. (Sorry Grandma Halter) Maybe it was because we couldn't steer very well on the sidewalk with our cups of shaved ice and our towels. I don't know. What I do know is that the rule was you had to be finished with the shaved ice by the time you got to the top of the hill so you could ride down the other side and coast the rest of the way home. Once I got to the bottom of high hill I turned down Fairmont to start my journey home. I sort of stopped thinking about the pool at that moment. My thoughts drifted back to school.
I thought about what springtime at school meant. I have lots of experience to draw from. As I've mentioned this is my 37th year in the school system as either a teacher or a student. April and May at school are exhaustingly magic. Your class is more of a family than a class. You've developed best friends, inside jokes, a familiarity that isn't there in September. Guards have come down, learning has been done, we have a developed closeness that is the good stuff making memories is made of. I thought about how if we would have been at school yesterday we would have most likely ended the day with an Earth Day art project of some sort. I would have likely confirmed our field trip to Bear Country the following week and verified that we had the cold lunch count accurately conveyed to the lunch lady and the bus was confirmed. I probably would have gathered Rally Day slips into a huge pile and stapled them to be sent to the office. I would likely grumble because I have suggestions to improve Rally Day that are always ignored. We would have let recess go five minutes longer because it was such a nice day. We would have battled for playground space with other grade levels because it was just warm enough. The teachers would have relished in the fact that we only had 3 Fridays left until Summer Vacay 2020. The kids would have run around like crazy maniacs because it was Friday. In April. I thought about how much fun the drive home would be after the end of the day. We would have pizza that dad would pick up on his way home from work. We'd argue over what we'd watch in the evening. Mavis would greet us with relief because we were finally home. I'd kick the two of you outside while I decompressed from the day, preheated the oven, and watched the news. While my heart ached for all of the things we missed had we been at school something struck me. Someday, I'll be nostalgic for these quarantine days.
I will long for the days when we all gather around the table to "do" school. There might be laughing, crying, or fighting. Little Brother definitely will be complaining or pouting because he HAS to write. Baby Waider most certainly wanting to do more math. Both kids determined that they are NOT learning squat from their ding-dong parents. We will strive to be "done" with school in a reasonable time, but might find one or two more things to do before we sign off for the day. These days we might extend recess a bit in our own backyard if it is nice out. I don't hate being on a Zoom meeting with my window wide open listening to the two of you laugh while you swing or whisper as you "make" mud out of spray bottles and dirt. (Yes we knew you were doing that.) It is fun to have big breakfasts that linger longer than usual even on a weekday and indulge in reading an entire chapter book in one sitting. Sometimes we extend device time or spend extra time working on a project with your dad, like rebuilding a bike or making brownies with your mom and grandma via zoom. Afternoon walks don't have a time limit and you can skate outside until dark. We are pretty much continuously together which seems like a gift with both of you at the perfect ages of 6 and 8. You are young enough to be adorable, but old enough to be fun. I'll miss the days of listening to the two of you stay up too late laughing during a sleepover on a "school" night and the indulgent joy of drinking chocolate milkshakes while watching a movie. The simple excitement of scoring 5 quart bucket of ice cream or getting pop tarts in the grocery order. Planning meals together, playing cards, and doing puzzles have become something to look forward to and enjoy. Having Zoom Meetings interrupted by you or other meeting attendees meetings have been a friendly and hopeful reminder that we are all in this together. I think what is most endearing about all of this is how close the four of us have become. We've always been a strong family unit, but the time when it's just been the four of us have been a bit limited. More than once dad and I have commented on how cool it is that the two of you have become so close. You've participated in one another's interests more and more. Baby Waider has been a wonderful teacher to Little Brother in many ways. The thing about a moment is you never really know what will become the memory. I don't know what exactly I'll be nostalgic about during this time. I just know that at some point I will be missing this time.
So, what in the world does missing school, Robbinsdale Pool, and nostalgic about quarantine mean together? I promise I'm getting to that. Last night I went into your room, Baby Waider and Super Kitty was doing this thing where she walks around you meowing. I asked Super Kitty, "What's wrong, Super?"
She never answers me when I ask her that, but Baby Waider did. You said,"Super knows I needed her to be with me because I'm sad."
"Oh no! What's wrong?"
"I just miss my old life. I miss my grandma. I know I can see her but it isn't the same because I can't hug her."
We briefly talked about how life will go back to normal and we will see others again. We talked about somethings we could do to connect with people. When I woke up you had written these two poems. They perfectly summed up what we're all feeling. So much to miss.
It was timely because just yesterday I had reflected on focusing upon all the things we're enjoying during this time and I was able to pass that knowledge onto Baby Waider. I was also so proud of Baby Waider for putting feelings into writing. We also discussed the value of appreciating what we had before it was all lost. The things we miss have little to do with things or necessarily places (Well, except the Dollar Store and school!) but everything to do with the people we miss so much. Maybe the big lesson here is that people are such an important part of our life and experiences. They really are irreplaceable. I think that's why we are all taking this time-out to be in quarantine because we want to protect all of the PEOPLE we love who mean so much to us. If we take this time-out seriously they will all remain with us to develop more memories.
As I wrapped my walk up yesterday (almost 4 miles walked in Birkenstock sandals) I also wrapped up my thinking. What will our memories be during this time? Did we worry too much? Enjoy too little? Did we live in the now? Were the precautions we took too great? Did we not take enough precautions? Will we regret not getting another kitten? I'm not sure we will ever know. What I do know is that your mom 10 years ago would have NEVER imagined this scenario. It has taught me that you never know what is coming. I think your poem titled, "When?" sums up how were all feeling. We don't know when anything is going to change. What I do know is that we have to consciously live in the now and look for what we will be nostalgic for in the future. You never know. It might be walking up a HUGE hill on a hot day, with a shaved ice, a damp towel, wearing a wet swim suit. Just like we don't always know what's coming we also don't always know which parts we will miss.
Love you both,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment