Roundabouts

The first time I approached a roundabout, I was pregnant with my oldest daughter and we were visiting friends in Wisconsin. My eyes got super round, “What is this?” I asked my partner who said proudly, “That’s a roundabout. Here in Wisconsin, we use them to replace stoplights. They’re much more efficient.”

Huh.

I’d never seen one before. As I approached nervously trying to understand the flow, the dynamics of this dance. I entered my car in and with some help, figured out how to get in and out without incident.

There’s a flow to a roundabout. A give and a take.

___

My daughter moved away this year. She started her life outside of our family and took off to college.

My friend Jennie said it best, “It's an intensely BOTH experience. We can be over the moon for our amazing kiddos stepping out into a world they are prepared to learn/grow/thrive/fail/learn more/expand/become into . . .AND we can grieve the ending of an era. A big thing is over for us. Parenting is not over, but a particular kind of parenting is . . . over.”

I keep telling myself that it’s natural and normal and that she’s ready, I’m ready. But there’s a hole where she used to be and I’m realizing that it will always be there.

—-

This summer we took our kids to Europe to celebrate her graduation. Guess what they had in France?

Roundabouts..

This was a different level because none of the words were in English and honestly, most of the time we didn’t have any idea where we were going. I tried to help my partner navigate the roundabouts, but it’s complicated trying to tell them which turn to take and when.

My oldest from the back seat started piping in, “Dad take the second turn.” or “Dad take the third turn.” She’d figured out how to support him as he drove through the roundabouts in perfect timing and efficiency.

Our drives were much smoother when she navigated.

—-

After moving her in and getting her settled. It was time to leave. After seeing quite a few tears in the parking lot, I told her that there would be no parking lot goodbye. I couldn’t take trying NOT to express whatever emotions might come up because there were people around. So we said goodbyes in the driveway of our rental house.

My little girl. Who was just in diapers yesterday. Begging me to play Bob Marley. Sweet potato all over her face. Glue and glitter stuck in her hair. Little hands reaching up for me. Mom. Mom. Mom.

How do I live with this hole in my house that is in the shape of my daughter?

—-

We told her we’d follow her to her school and turn off as she drove in.

As we approached the school, there it was, a roundabout.

As it got closer, my stomach started to clench. And then before we could say, ‘Wait!” or “Not yet!” or “One more hug!”...

She took the second turn, towards her new life.

And we took the third, towards Lake Superior to let the big water do what it does best, soothe our lonely hearts.

—-

Now I am learning to live with a hole in my house. It’s not meant to be filled. It’s meant to be learned from. We’re starting a new way of being in relationship. One we’ve never done before. I keep saying to myself, “It’s not an ending, it’s an evolution.”

And like the roundabout, sometimes we’ll come together in the circle of life. Flowing around each other in the dance of family.

And sometimes, we’ll exit and spend some time apart.

xo.

PS - One of the things that helped me a lot during this process was being able to sense, feel and regulate my nervous system. If you’d like some free tools (breath practice, relaxation practice, guided meditation) please check out ‘Drenched’ - a free 7 day somatic experience to help you remember to breathe, slow down, sense and feel. Sign up is below xo