Caught between worlds

Tomorrow, I will say “see you later” to a dear friend of my heart. The time has arrived that she must travel back to her home more than 7000 miles away from her children and extended family. When the plane lands, exhausted, she will greet the husband who misses her so much, and after a few days of jet lag, she will step back into her entirely other life.

I understand, as I have straddled the fence of living at home with the kids in Tennessee with Roger far, far away, and living at home with him “on the other side” in China. The overseas life for my friend is a good one, and I knew that side of her life long before I knew the Michigan side. Hers is a good life “on the other side.” She and her husband share quality time together; she has friends who love to come to her apartment for good homemade food. I was one of those friends, and a trip to her place meant leaving with food in my belly, a package of food in my hands to take home to Roger, and warmth in my heart as I enjoyed those afternoons in her fifth-floor apartment looking out over Shimao’s fake lake, knitting and visiting. Her Michigan life centers around her children, extended family and the kitchen as well. Both separate worlds are good, but far apart, and she feels, as we all do for one reason or another – stretched and caught in the middle.

How many times do we find ourselves caught between worlds? Working parents know the feeling of being caught between worlds when they hand the baby over in day care and drive off to work. Some of the best teachers and co-workers I have ever known agonize over the feeling of separation at that moment in the morning, followed by knowing they enjoy their jobs and create good things to happen in their work environments.

I remember taking Elise, my first born, to Miami for her first semester at the U. She was a young small-town girl, and here I was, embarking on the task of leaving her seemingly all alone in this big city. As I struggled with encouraging independence in this child, I wanted her close to me at all times. She did not quite share this struggle, and waved her hand wildly as Roger and I slipped away from her on that steamy August Sunday morning as she skipped up to her new free, fresh, fun and stress-filled life. We felt so caught between the worlds of protective and strict parenting, to the world of allowing that butterfly to emerge from the cocoon we had so carefully constructed and maintained.

But, emerge she did, and now lives and thrives in Boston with her husband, Scott. While I now view her strong independent streak with much more confidence, I still keep the Boston weather report on my home page, as I somehow feel knowing her weather brings me closer to her world.

During the years Roger travelled almost every week, people would routinely ask me where he was. Quite frankly, sometimes I did not remember and at others I just knew he was not in the world of sharing carpool, dinner, and evening television. I would tell people he was in “the land of gone,” but will be home on Friday. We lived in the same world, but did not share it on a daily basis. He wanted to be home, but loved the job he was doing in those days. Caught between worlds.

Finding resilience when we want to, but cannot be in two – or more – places requires a level of adaptability that is hard to achieve, but gives us a sense of accomplishment when we do. “Bloom where you are planted” is an old cliché, and I even remember a poster with that slogan in my dorm room days of yore, but it is a good one. To take circumstances that we cannot change and life opportunities for growth that should not be squelched and thrive is a signal of strength.

We cannot be everywhere at one time and must go where the winds take us, or allow others in our lives to do the same, but in adapting to the changes in our worlds, we break down the barriers that separate and give us the personal freedom to “bloom.”

I will miss my dear friend and look forward to reuniting with her this summer – She embodies the spirit of blooming where she is planted. Until then, I hope she shops for me. I really miss that part of her world.