I feel some days that my 11-year-old is becoming my Zen master.
We were walking near a lake in Potsdam and she said to me, “You know, today was a really good day.”
And, undeniably, from her perspective, it had been a good day. We’d woken up without much drama (and we would ultimately end the day with a great deal of drama about TV show choice). But right then, it was good. The kids and I had headed to a pool where we had a blast. Emma and I had now dropped Noah off with the birthday party that was a continuation of the pool party (Emma and I had just been along for the ride) and were walking towards downtown Potsdam with the promise of a Schnitzel dinner. I mean, that’s high marks across the board when you’re 11.
She didn’t know everything about the day, of course. The reason it was only three of us is because Christina was in Copenhagen for the weekend, destressing after our last three years. And I don’t begrudge Christina the trip for a moment – I want her to take more – but the fact that she wasn’t there was a reminder that things are off in our family.
The birthday was a big deal. We worry that Noah doesn’t get invited to enough of these things. Emma is s social animal. You leave her alone in a room and she’ll come out with five friends. During our time in the hospice she met everyone in the building. She essentially became the accounting department’s mascot. We don’t worry about her, socially. Noah is more of a loner and the birthday invitations are few on the ground, so it was important we got him there.
And yet, as luck would have it, the pool party was in Brandenburg, which is the city where Colin and Christina spent January through March last year while he was in rehab. It’s the city he was in when he had to get the feeding tube laid and it was the town where he had the first attack that led to the MRI that first indicated the tumor was probably back. So, I was already a little apprehensive about driving out there because of its history, to say nothing of the fact that it’s almost two hours away. But I had a party my son needed to attend.
There were just so many memories on the drive. Up until Potsdam, I could just pretend we were doing something else. But once we passed Potsdam and didn’t take the exit to Munich, it began to feel familiar. I noticed that the construction on the highway near Potsdam was still not done – oh, the hours we spent in traffic jams there last year. And then we neared Brandenburg and it was just like a year ago. This was the time of year last year when we were driving out there every weekend.
Taking the Brandenburg exit, I saw the construction there, which had been the bane of all those drives last year, was done, which was nice. And then I saw the first small town and the gas station and the train station and yeah, there were a lot of memories. And then I followed the GPS and, wouldn’t you know it, the pool was essentially next door to the hospital. I suppose I should be glad we didn’t end up right next to the rehab center, which is on the other side of town (and, based on their Facebook feed, under new management), but it was still a weird rush of “Oh God, this place” and “I wonder if they still have that awesome coffee/hot cocoa machine.”
I didn’t let it trouble me. We did, honestly, have a great time at the pool. And then we sent Noah on his way and Emma and I went looking for Schnitzel and now she was here telling me about what a great day it had been.
“We need more of those,” I replied.
Without missing a beat. And with only the barest undertone of “Yeah, I know,” in her voice, she replied “Absolutely.”
Absolutely, indeed.
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