Sunny, warm, breezy California weather beckoned me for a little stroll. Feeling quite ambitious that morning, I loaded my two bundles into our *new* double stroller (I think I have a stroller obsession), and set out to conquer the hilly roads of our track and the busy sidewalk of the Pacific Coast Highway.
My destination: the famous Ruby’s Crystal Cove Shake Shack.
I realized it was only 9:30 in the morning, too early for milkshakes. But, we need a little field trip to escape from all the clutter of toys, clothes, and stacks of mail. So, we walked, passing joggers with their dogs, elderly couples with their hand holding, and photographers with their cameras. To the right of us were the waves of the ocean crashing against the sandy shore resulting in white froth, sailboats drifting in unison with the horizon, and parents chasing their children to the water. To the left of us was the busy Pacific Coast Highway with cars, big and small, rushing by and the multi-million dollar homes perched upon a hill.
Justin was asleep; he’d just finished his morning meal (I had planned it that way so that I could spend time with Nathan). Nathan and I spent our walk there pointing out airplanes, helicopters, birds, lizards, cars (he names each car specifically referring to the vehicles in his favorite show, Bob the Builder and movie, CARS–his association skills amaze me!).
When we arrived fifteen minutes later, we ordered a chocolate milkshake for him and a pineapple milkshake for me. We shared a bench looking out into the horizon and told each other stories of what all the characters on the beach were doing and where the sailboats, airplanes, and birds were going.
According to Nathan, the airplanes were going home and the birds were going to look for friends.
Justin continued to sleep.
As the sun slowly made its way over our heads, I decided to start making our way back (as I realized I’d be pushing a double stroller with about 60 pounds in occupancy…plus the diaper bag…up. hill.).
Nathan started to calm down, an antecedent to him dozing off–he was quiet.
My mind started to wander. There I was, a relatively young person walking among affluence…I mean, the expensive homes, cars…on a weekday. I saw the looks (well, I always get looks since I look like a teenager and have two kids in tow) like, uh, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school? Are those your kids? (I get asked this often and am told that I am too young to have kids. Uh, I’m 2 years shy of 30–not that young.) They hear me refer to myself as Mommy, forcing themselves to give a second glance…”So, she’s not the nanny?,” I imagine them thinking.
When I crossed through those guarded gates of the community of track homes that morning, I was leaving behind what I felt like I did not deserve. The trail that I walked on, parallel to the ocean, belonged to everyone. As I allowed my mind to wander, I realized that I did not feel ashamed or guilty for embarking on this simple pleasure, on a weekday, nonetheless, because I was investing my time into the well-being and growth of my children…my most treasured assets. I was giving Justin that fresh breath of salty, ocean air, and the feeling of warmth from the sun against his precious face. I was giving Nathan my thoughts, my time and attention (that’s all children really want from their parents), and exposure to the real world.
I had given up so many weekends from the age of 17…I had given up a lot of myself, really, during that time. I was always at a place I did not want to be because there was always a better place I thought I should be at–I could be helping at the church, attending mass, spending time with Loi and my Nathan, my grandma’s house, on the couch reading books or writing, pursuing a Masters or Doctorate. But, I continued on that career path thinking that that was where I was meant to be…but always feeling so empty, like something was missing.
Many may think, “Poor little rich girl.” I had every material possession and my education, and barely a justifiable struggle to speak of. My turmoil and struggles were indeed internal. I was always doing something productive, working long hours, producing monetary gain, playing with Nathan, cleaning up the house, folding laundry. I almost did not allow myself time to just sit and be. At the same time, I never felt like I was doing enough.
As I walked that trail, I realized how far I’ve come since Justin’s come into my life. I no longer fill that emptiness with things and measure my self worth by it either. I’ve found myself again, that little girl who once wrote stories as gifts to her teachers. I’ve found my heart again, in loving my faith. I’ve found my passion in helping the downtrodden.
Sometimes, nurses and staff at the hospital joked that we should use the turmoil he’s caused us in the hospital as leverage when he’ll start acting out as a teenager. Like, he better be thankful that we were there for him and feel bad for all the stress he’s caused us. I know, it was only a joke. But, truth is, I should be thanking him for all that he’s given me, for helping me find myself again, and realizing the true meaning of love and life…for helping me shed of all the superficial fluff surrounding my physical shell and way of thinking.
Along that trail we walked. While I surely did not deserve a multi-million dollar home, I did deserve to be by that beach, on that very day with my children…and they deserved it too with their time with Mommy. We deserved it because we realized a bit of life that is not truly comprehended or appreciated by others…that sometimes, there is no need for separation of who we are and what we do. And, when that is realized, our truest rewards are reached.
