Holidays for Heroes

I wrote about the wonderful holiday my younger son and I enjoyed on the Massachusetts island of Nantucket here. In September, through the generosity of some wonderful folks, there will be a celebration of our military heroes on the island.

It's difficult for me to think about the Fourth of July and not remember those brave men and women who have served our country down through the years. One of the positive things that has come out of the horrible 9/11 tragedy is that we as a country seem to have a new and greater appreciation for our active duty military and our veterans. It's not easy transitioning to civilian life when we are whole and healthy, and it's even more of a challenge for those who have been wounded.

Holidays for Heroes is a wonderful way to say thank you, we appreciate you, we love you, we support you as you have supported us. I invite you to visit their website.

Susan

Asking For It

While on Nantucket, my son and I read "The Hunger Games." No spoilers, so feel free to continue on. The main character in the book forces herself to do things she doesn't want to do. I smiled when I read the part of the book where she does this, because this is something I do, too. "Susie," I will tell myself inside my head, "go do this. Go do that."

For me, when I start to incorporate something new in my life, I have to kind of make myself do it. Then as time goes on, it gets easier and soon it's as natural as breathing. Then I look back at my old behavior and think, "Who was that girl?"

I've told you that I have begun to ask for what I want or need. So far, every answer has been yes. I know that in time, as I grow in this new behavior, I will be told no. That will be all right. A no will not stop me from asking the next time.

Last week I asked for what I wanted, and I got it. And I got more! I was shocked, because my greatest hope was that I would get a yes. I never expected to get more than I asked for. When it happened, I really didn't even understand what had taken place. It wasn't until the next morning, when I was sitting on our beautiful yellow sofa drinking my morning coffee, that the gravity of what had taken place hit me. I got more! I started to cry a little at that most wonderful surprise.

Susan

I Once Was a Girl on Nantucket

Yesterday my younger son and I returned from a wonderful vacation together on the beautiful Massachusetts island the sailors called "The Gray Lady." She was named that because she is often covered with fog. Her people love their island and were friendly and eager to share her with us. There was not a drop of rain while we were there. The daffodils had come out early this year for our arrival. The birds that I loved as a child but don't see here in California, robins, were playing in the yard. The full moon over the ocean was an amazing sight.

The Wampanoug Native Americans called Nantucket "Place of Peace" and that is how we found her. Six days together, with no particular place we had to be, no distractions. What a luxury. It was wonderful to tell my son good-night and not good-bye in the evening. It was a joy to wake in the morning and have him there. He's an adult, out on his own, and he and I have not lived under the same roof for three years.

I was reading that there has recently been an upward trend of more multi-generational families living together here in America. It's attributed mostly to the economy, with people out of work and losing their homes, it makes sense for adult kids to move back in with their parents, or for a grandparent to move into the home. We in our country are very invested in the nuclear family, just mom and dad and the kids, and we seem to view anything else as less than ideal, maybe even a failure. As moms we raise our kids to be independent, and we consider it a success when we have worked ourselves out of a job. We miss them, but we tell ourselves it's the way it should be. We tell ourselves it's good for them to be independent. We tell ourselves that the occasional visits, phone calls, emails and texts are enough. We tell ourselves it's okay.

I am here to tell you. It is not. It is not okay. It is not okay that this young man on whom the sun rises and sets in my life for twenty-seven years is not my baby anymore. Not okay. I was joking with my dear roommate-friend. Only halfway joking, really. I told her we needed a giant house so that my two sons, her son, their girlfriends and wife, her two dogs and my three grandchildren could live together. I would weep with joy every day to have them there with me. How great would that be? I know. I know. It's not going to happen. It's my fantasy. But at the end of the day, I want to say good-night and not good-bye.

So it's not okay that I don't see my sons every day. But I can live with it. I am really happy with what I do have, and for the memories we made in that beautiful Place of Peace.

Susan