How Are You Navigating the Seasons with Someone You Love?
A mother, a daughter and the seasons we carry together
My mother was born in August, and this month, we celebrate her 84th birthday. It’s difficult to reminisce about our annual celebrations and see the progression of life laid out before us. The way our gatherings have changed. This birthday, our beach days are limited; the heat is an impediment, the walk to the edge of the water feels longer than in the past, and our once long strolls, cut short, leaves her reminiscing.
“I wish I had the energy I had five years ago,” she says.
Me too, Mom. Me too.
This month is always nostalgic but August, for me, is its own season. The Sunday of summer basks in its slow grind and serves up the ruthless reminder that I’ll never be good at holding on or letting go. I’m not ready for September, amongst other things.
We stop at a farm stand, pick up peaches and glance at the tomatoes. We consider asking my husband—our in-house Spaniard and resident chef—to make gazpacho, but the tomatoes aren’t ripe enough. We drive past the wineries we used to visit, and both glance over, reminded of the slow, sacred rhythm of our past mother-daughter afternoons.
She shares a story from her childhood and pulls me out of my thoughts. It’s one I’ve heard before, but I listen as if it’s the first time. I watch as she walks up the four steps to my front door, slightly off balance, and wonder: What’s next for us? Are we slowly holding on or letting go?
I look up to find a strange shift in the light and decide I don’t want to know the answer.
We plan to make Cuban sandwiches for her birthday dinner. The Spaniard agrees it’s a good call. She’ll sit at the table doing her search-a-word puzzle while we meal prep. Afterward, we’ll sit in the backyard before we bring out the cake and play the card game “Uno”, one of the few things that still brings all of us laugh-out-loud joy at how much she relishes putting down a “Draw 4” card.
If at some point in the evening, in the middle of it all, she says — “I can’t believe I’m 84 today”— I’m ready with an answer.
“Today is the youngest any of us will ever be. How lucky we are to be here to celebrate you.”
I hope she smiles at the truth as I lean in to kiss her.
As always, I’ve listed A Few Good Things for you below.
If you’re new here, I write about midlife, identity, family, aging, and the intimate moments that shape who we are along with the silver linings that dot our landscape.
I'm also the co-editor along with
of Midlife Private Parts: Revealing Essays That Will Change the Way You Think About Age, an anthology of bold, honest stories that lean into reinvention, resilience, friendship, visibility, loss and growing older on our own terms.If this piece resonated with you, consider subscribing or sharing it with someone who might relate.
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments—how are you navigating the seasons with someone you love?
A Few Good Things
Newsletter
I appreciate a good midlife newsletter and "The Ethel," from AARP with its witty tag line “For Women Who Weren't Born Yesterday” landed in my in-box as a pleasant surprise.
The Ethel from AARP is a community of women smashing stereotypes around aging and celebrating life.
It also led me to find Anna Bowles who I admire. Anna is multi-faceted creative and does what I hope to do someday - interview authors which she does beautifully on her podcast. You can find her podcast here. If you are interested in her latest essay noted below I’ll leave it here for you.
The One Item This Woman Will Never Wear Again
Now that I'm 62, I'm a different woman.
By Elena Bowes
Book of the Week
Amor Towles, one of my favorite writers, edited Best American Essays for 2024. His thoughtful insight into the short story (outlined in his introduction) made me reel back a bit. Towles writes about “the special role that surprise can play in the reading of a short story.”
When we read the opening sentence of most short stories, we are delightfully in the dark. Without the pre-awareness that accompanies novels, we don’t know where or when the story is taking place. We don’t know what sort of person will be at its center, whether male or female, old or young, black or white, Asian or Latino. We don’t know if the narrator is omniscient, an interested observer or the principal player. We don’t know if the tone is going to be cynical or wistful, compassionate or angry, unnerving or hilarious. Which is all to the better. For our discovery of each of these elements as we read the story will provide its own little jolt of surprise.
And I realize this must be why I love short stories.
The writers, all winners of the O. Henry Prize, are masterful storytellers. They invite us to wonder what might happen if the story continued to unfold. A worthy read for anyone who welcomes the lingering after thoughts that come with a great essay.
Journal Prompt
What part of yourself have you been quieting that wants to speak up again?
Weekend Reminder
Give yourself grace on whatever you’ve been working on this week. It doesn’t have to be perfect.
Don’t forget to let me know how you are navigating the seasons with someone you love. Sometimes, just knowing we’re not alone can go a long way.
Thank you for being here with me.
-Dina
Beautifully captured- the push, the pull- the passage of time. As I read this I think how I wish I could answer your question- for me the question is how I am navigating without my mom. I think either way, to some extent we figure it out as we go, but it's always the gratitude that gets me through. Lot's to think about, and we all learn from each other. And I love that you put out the question, because there is great comfort in knowing that we are not alone. Thanks too for the recs- want to pick up Best American Essays... Love that photo of your beautiful mama!
I understand. My 85-year-old Mom is now living with us. Every day is a gift.