I woke with an ache in my heart this morning. It took me a beat or two to come out of my sleepy haze and connect my brain to my heart, but then it was clear: Oh, yeah...that’s why.
My emotions take me by surprise because what’s happening is a completely positive thing, something everyone in the family has been excited about for months. This sadness makes no sense.
But it involves one of my older kids and we mothers can’t catch a break—even the most wonderful changes trigger the cascade. We’ve been through too much and our love runs too deep.
So here I am on this spectacular late spring morning feeling sad. The first thing I do is acknowledge it. Yup, I feel this and I honor it. It feels a bit ridiculous because I was so excited about the change, but no matter. My feelings are real, even if unexpected.
Next I reach for my essential oils. I role Console on my palms and breathe it in. I rub it all over my neck. The tree and flowers essences work their way into my limbic system and do their magic. I feel the effects instantly, like a comforting hug. Oh, I love this oil blend so!
The next thing I do is get outside. I walk my pup down my country road and appreciate the breeze. When I get home, I grab my basket and scissors and collect some flowers.
Of course there’s the exquisite peonies, the stunning french lilac, the complex allium, but what draws my attention are the simple violets--so common that we often trample them without a second look. Today, I bend and examine each sweet face. My heart hurts, so I look for comfort in the metaphor they provide for me: simple beauty right under my feet, though I rarely stop to appreciate. I snip a few for my windowsill and delight in their happy faces.
I’m curious about these little flowers that have always just be there, that chubby hands have presented to me through the years, so I take a moment to look them up. I call them Johnny jump-ups or violets, but I discover that they go by another name, too. One that makes me smile: Heartsease.
My mama heart takes it in. So much beauty and heartache in this life. I take another moment to acknowledge its complexity. I reapply my Console heart balm, close my eyes and breathe deeply into this belly that has housed so many.
I place my new friends next to my other small, simple treasures.
I turn and catch a glimpse of a photo on the fridge, one that’s been there for years, so I don’t notice it’s sweetness any longer. I let my eyes fill once again.
I think of my boy, a simple, steady presence that I took for granted. I’ll allow myself a little more time to mourn the empty space he left behind, but then it will be time to get to work and change it into something useful for the rest of us. We need the space and he’s moved on to a better one, so best for everyone to let the alchemy of change weave it’s magic.
I wipe the tears and reach for the broom and the mop. Time to move forward. Transformation awaits.