First Monday In May

I have always been a person who needs time to ponder and regroup. Last week when life slowed down to slower than the usual pace, I knew there was something afoot. Ken was working out of town, so my time was completely my own. I didn't clean house or do laundry. I ate what I wanted when I was hungry. I started work to finish my daughter's quilt.

It felt like I put myself in time out, as if I said Think about what you've done with your life, young lady. How exactly did I get to where I am? And where am I now?

A crystal clear memory presented itself. I remembered that shortly after my youngest child was born I strained my back. I reached over the side of the crib to pick him up...ouch. I called the doctor, who prescribed rest and the insight that the body after having a baby at 31 is different than it was at 25. There was another incident after that, although now I don't recall what, and I remember praying that I live to see my son grow up. I fervently prayed that I would live until he was least 15, the age I thought he would be independent and able to remember me, and my oldest two children would be old enough to help him out.

Now my youngest is 22 years old. He is moving off campus for the summer, and he has rented an apartment with friends for the fall. He made plans to fly to California to spend the time between spring semester and summer session with his brother, which is where he is this week.

I know people love me. The thing is that no one needs me.

What if that means I have done all I came to do? What if that means I will die?

As these thoughts occurred to me last week, I didn't think they were morbid. I was not scared. I watched the ideas unfold, checked them over carefully, and let them sit with me. I didn't say them out loud or even write them down. I stopped at the edge of my thinking because... what if I sounded crazy?

I had a massage scheduled for Friday morning. I have been going at least once a month for ten years. We start each session with a conversation about what has been going on with me and how my body feels. I covered the usual topics. One thing led to another and in the lightest tone I could muster I shared my thoughts about, perhaps, being finished with what I was supposed to do. I wondered out loud if I was going to die.

My massage therapist is a deeply spiritual person, intuitive, and incredibly able to read people. She watched me and asked a few questions. She never proclaims to know the answer, but she gently shares the thoughts that come to her during our sessions. She wondered if it wasn't about physical death but about death of the Sharon that has always taken care of someone else, that maybe this was about it being time for me to take care of me.

I puzzled over that and asked why it was taking so long; I feel like it's taking forever for me to figure out what to do with myself. I can't get a job. I can't win a local election. What if I am just supposed to be finished?

She offered that it takes a long time to change course, to listen to ourselves and learn who we are. She said that if I had been busy with other commitments I might have missed all the things I have learned about myself.

She asked me how my body has been. I told her that my shoulders have been tight and my upper arms have been sore. As she started the massage she suggested I ask my shoulders if they had anything to tell me.

The tears came with the thought holding on too tight to my kids, the life I knew, and who I used to be. She massaged my shoulders and my thighs, which have also been tight, a sign she says that I have been digesting new information. My entire body felt better after the massage. I felt ready to go on.

This time has been important. As much as I want the uncertainty to end and the answers to come, I believe that life unfolds on its own schedule.

Maybe the journey is just beginning.