I am an only child. My childhood was spent alone. As the youngest cousin on one side of the family and the very oldest on the other, family gatherings were lonely and unpleasant. In short, I had little interaction with anyone; I quickly learned the skill of self-play and self-containment.
Now, as the mother of four children – two in each generation – I watch their interactions with wonderment and, this year, with joy. I also recently learned a thing or two about love and family.
This past Thanksgiving, my 6, 8, 26 and 28 yr. olds were together for the long holiday weekend. Although they are close, and truly love each other, each sibling had an agenda for the visit; each sibling had an intention for the time. My 28-year-old daughter wanted quiet time; she huddled away from the youngest citing the need for space. My 26-year-old son wanted attention – that is, from other females his age. For him, playing with the youngest ones was tough and time-consuming. He intended to spend scant time with them expecting to go off to see his childhood friends. The youngest two had other ideas – they wanted to spend time with their same-sex sibling. In fact, they wanted to spend all their waking hours together.
So, with a little (clever) maneuvering, I managed to set all of them off on a variety of trips intended to help them bond. Here’s what transpired: when my oldest daughter went out with my youngest son, my young daughter was devastated – for once the spotlight was not (at all) on her. She was left behind. When my oldest son took my younger son to the mall, he’d had enough after one hour, preferring not to complete the visit with lunch, as planned. However, my young son was clearly dejected; he’d counted on the time together. With a little nudging, off they went, hand-in-hand, to a nearby children’s restaurant.
Watching them walk away, their emotions were clearly on the surface – my older son was unhappy; his younger brother, timid. He didn’t want to anger his big, older brother. However, checking in on them an hour later, my young son happily, no, make that joyfully ate his French fries as he gazed adoringly at his brother when he flashed a wallet full of money and made a grand spectacle of being the elder caretaker. In the end, all of these many excursions went off without a hitch.
Suddenly I realized how these simple events translate into life-lessons. The time spent in any direction created: a loosening of the heart; the capacity to endure rejection; the reluctant willingness to share time and siblings; and finally, the capacity to go away and come back, together.
For a time, my heart soared. These were the lessons I never learned. These are the moments which make up a family.
My oldest have flown back to their respective homes. I miss them more than I can ever remember. One thing I know: for all of this, I am so very grateful.