Last Times

For some life events, it's hard to know before it happens when the last time will be.  I didn't understand this when my children were little.  I had three so it seemed that there would always be diapers to wash, sippy cups to hand off, one last time to nurse. Then one by one things happened for the last time...  except I didn't know it was the last time until it was.  One day the diaper pail stood empty and those lint-free cloths turn into window-washing rags.  The third baby stopped asking to nurse, so I honored his decision and stopped offering.  The sippy-cup lids sat in the dish drainer for days because the toddle now wanted his cup to look just like the big kids' drinking glasses.

We then moved to a time of predictable last times in our family.  Moving through the school system, learning to drive, and graduating from college fell nicely on life's timeline.  We could predict ahead of the event that it would be the last.  I enjoyed those "lasts" because I had time to prepare for them.  I liked the chance to anticipate what would happen, how, and when.  Plans were made in advance, and though we stayed flexible and details might change, the central event was a celebration from anticipation to completion.  I was a happy mom.

Yesterday Ken and I traveled to Boston to help our youngest son move.  We anticipated that it could be the last time we helped one of our children physically move from one place to another.  Each of our three offspring is grown up and gainfully employed, and they have all the possessions that come with a professional life.  Ken and I are in good shape, but we are realistic about how many more times we can heft futons and solid wood bureaus down three flights of stairs, into a truck, and up three more flights of stairs.  We moved our commitments around and our son changed his schedule so Ken and I could both be there yesterday to be a part of this "last time."

We arrived in Boston and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with our son.  Then he delivered his surprise:  for the most part he was already moved.  There were a few boxes we could easily walk from the old apartment to his new abode, and after that he had tickets for us to attend a Red Sox game at Fenway Park.  It was a wonderful surprise.

It caught me off guard because I was prepared for another "last."  I continued to find reasons for us to walk between the two apartments because I wasn't ready for the experience to be over.  Then it was time for us to get on the subway to get to the game, and since we had so much free time we made plans to meet our son for dinner before we got on the bus to head home.

It was a delightful day.  Ken and I talked on the way home about how proud we are of our children and how lucky we are.

It will have to be okay that we can't always predict the "last time."