Birthday Reflection

It was my birthday last week. I won't disclose which one or on what day, but it was important. As always, I started my early morning with a couple cups of coffee. I thought about where I was a few years ago, at 29, living in my parents' basement, waiting for paperwork to clear so the kids and I could join my husband in Russia. We were broke, scared, and desperate. Enough that we would move far, far away with four small children.

It made me think of Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken." I hope right now you can read this out loud, slowly. Take it in.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

And that has made all the difference. I'm not the person I was when I left. I remember her, but she is a minuscule piece of what I am now. The grit and endurance she undertook, the sheer guts to move away from everything familiar, made me alive. When I recall birthdays past, I have glimpses of the happiest moments of my life. The time my husband threw me a party filled with my favorite things and my favorite people in the country air. The small, private gatherings of our closest friends in a crowded Russian cafe. Being around a friend's kitchen table with European goodies and my favorite Czech beer. Homemade cakes with matches for candles.

The strange thing about getting older is that I don't feel it as much as I see it around me. With one kid in college and another one looking, the time moves like a flashback movie scene. On Friday, our final approval for Foster Care came through. We will get placements in the next couple of weeks. I also re-applied to college and will begin in January as a transfer student at the University of North Georgia. Time continues and the opportunity to choose a road less traveled constantly presents itself. I choose the uphill climb because I know that the views are exceptional and worth the sweat.

The view from the top of Amicalola Falls, Dawsonville, Georgia.

Ready, Aim, Launch!

When I was 17, I had a set of wedding rings in the bottom drawer of my dresser. My husband and I had saved up and purchased them out of the bargain corner in the newspaper. That Spring, I graduated second in my class and commuted to college in the Fall. It was an uphill climb for me. I paid my own way, filled out my forms, and bought my own books. I had to drive the 40 mile round trip route five days a week. After school I worked to pay for my car, gas, and insurance. I took a grueling 21 credits per semester and maintained a perfect GPA. After my third semester, I quit to get married. Nine months and five days after our wedding, I delivered a baby girl. Three more kids followed by the time I was 25. I went back several years later part time, but then we moved to Russia and I had to leave it again. I only need 50 credits to finish and I still have a 4.0.

I had a teacher in high school who I suspect saw my potential. He said to me once, shortly after graduation, "You have to be great. You owe it to us. All of us." At the time I thought that his expectations were not appropriate. That he didn't get to own a part of my success any more than he owned my car or my books.

Exactly 20 years later, my 17 year-old daughter moved to college. A large 55,000 student state university. She'd never met her roommates before that first awkward day. She has swam in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Mediterranean. She's been to Europe without us, and on trains, planes, and automobiles by herself. She doesn't have a boyfriend. She knows what she wants to do and how to get there. She's focused and driven and anyone with eyes can see it.



Bringing her to school was entirely more emotional than I thought it would be. I kept trying not to project, but I realized as I walked the poorly lit institutional halls that she is my dream in motion. She didn't ask for this and certainly reminds me that she didn't ask to be born when I was 20. But all the same, I feel feelings. I get it now. I understand my teacher's sentiments because I can see greatness, too.

Beyond generous gifts from friends and family (thank you) who helped pay for dorm supplies and immediate costs, we are paying for most of her education. Because I think it's important. I sometimes ask myself what I would have been if I had married instead at 22, finished my education, and waited to have kids. Yes, I would have been older. I may have even had a successful career start under my belt.

But the fact is that I am a 37 year-old mother of a college student. I am proud, humbled, and grateful that each generation gets a fresh start.