Camping

"... sometimes special people come into our lives, stay for a bit and then they have to go... But the bit where they were here was happy, wasn't it? Maybe that makes it all worth it?"

I'm trying to work through some things. This is not a blog post that will be logical or follow my usual essay-like pattern. This is a post to process.

I moved to a new state and city 16 years ago. I had a few friends in the area, and never really felt connected to the city in which I had just lived. Nor did I feel particularly connected to the place I grew up. I missed my old friends, but I didn't miss the area. Or maybe I didn't miss the memories.

I moved into a fourplex apartment building in what some might consider a rough neighborhood. But to me, it felt like home. It felt like a fresh start. But despite having a few friends in the area, it felt lonely too. 

Shortly after moving in, my next door neighbor Iain introduced himself. I could tell right off the bat that Iain was a character. He had this big personality. I knew immediately that I liked him. He was always working on the building grounds; working in the yard to plant or place beautiful plants or decorations. He wasn't hired to do that, he just loved making the world beautiful. He loved working with plants and gardens. He loved showing pride in the space where he lived. He had such a beautiful apartment. My cat Stewie became quick friends with Iain's dog Jaques. 

Iain could also tell that I was struggling financially, trying to make my new life work. He gave me things to spruce up my apartment, and took me out to lunch. He was so inviting, and I really felt like he had taken me under his wing. 

The summer after I moved in, Iain organized this whole building party in the back yard of the apartment. I thought it was just going to be the residents and friends having a small gathering with a few drinks, but Iain made it into such an amazing event. He bought a pool for us to utilize, and built a Tiki stand with light decorations, and oh the food. He put together so much food, recruiting me and another person new to the building to set it all up. I had never experienced something so fun, put together in such a short time.

That same year at Thanksgiving, I couldn't afford to go home. Iain found out and invited me and a few of my friends to join him and another friend at their house. Iain didn't blink an eyelash at helping host a group of young people. The whole evening was so warm and special to me.

In short, Iain filled my lonely world with light and color and beauty. At the end of my year lease, Iain and I both moved out of the apartment building, going our separate ways. But we always promised to keep in touch. And we did touch based a couple of times...

But, at this point, it's been a long time since I've seen Iain. I've kept up with him on social media, and I've done what I could to help support him during his health struggles in the past few years. But we never got a chance to reconnect like we'd always planned. Life always seemed to get in the way. And now, he's gone. He's gone, and I don't have a way to say that I'm so sorry that I didn't make the time. I'm so sorry that I took for granted some future space where everything just worked out, and he would get to meet my kids. He would get to see that he played a role in how much I loved living here. If it hadn't been for Iain's kindness the first year that I lived here, I'm not sure I would have stayed.

I guess there's still a part of me that believes in fate. There were so many contributing factors that lead to me moving here. But Iain will always be part of why I stayed. And for that, I will always be grateful. Iain, I hope you are at peace. I hope that you know that you are loved. I hope you know that you will be missed. And I hope one day, we will meet again. 

Do You Believe in Magic

I have an anxious five year old. I'm not sure when the anxiety started exactly, but I can't help but wonder if the pandemic starting when she was two years old didn't play a significant role. In our attempt to help her anxiety around TV shows and movies in particular (she gets very anxious and asks us to turn off the program if there is anything remotely embarrassing or conflicting occurring), we often say things like "It's not real, it's okay because this isn't really happening." I think by doing this so often, we've inadvertently removed some of the magic from her childhood. Maybe that's a silly thing to worry about, and maybe not, but I've started to look for ways to make things more magical.

Yesterday, we went to a theme park, and encountered two of her favorite characters (aka, people dressed up as her favorite characters in larger than life full body costumes making them seem like giant versions of her favorite cartoons). At first, she decided she did not want to meet them. But her three year old sister wanted to meet them. So my three year old and I waited in line, and just as we were about to meet the characters, my five year old changed her mind. It was so precious! They hugged, high-fived, and let us take an abundance of pictures. She seemed extremely happy and I was so happy for the opportunity. 

Last night as we were winding down and getting her into bed, we had our usual nightly chat. I asked her what her favorite part of the day was. She said going to the theme park and meeting her favorite characters, but then she paused and said "Yeah, but weren't those just people dressed up in costumes?" and I just froze. I wasn't sure what my next steps were going to be, but I said "What do you think?" She got a little frustrated and said "No, mom, I want you to tell me!" So I paused and took a deep breath. Was I really going to strip yet another magical moment from her childhood? But instead, I said something that I think satisfied both my desire to keep her childhood magical and her desire to have a complete response that was fun.

I said, "Sometimes more than one thing can be true at once. Places like <theme park> and Disney World are magical places. They're places where things can transform and magical, wonderful, things can happen; however, you have to believe in those things in order for them to happen. Kind of like how we know when we watch a movie that the actors are just actors, but the moment we're watching the movie they transform into those characters. It's called suspension of disbelief. So our inclination might be to disbelieve (or not believe) in something, but for a short period of time, we can choose to believe in the magic, which makes it more fun. So while the characters we met today may or may not have started out as people in costumes, when we're in a magical place, we choose to suspend our disbelief and that transforms them into those characters." me, pausing..."That was a whole lot of information I just put your way, does that make sense or do you need more?" 

Thoughtfully, she paused herself and said "That makes sense."

"So do you think you actually met <character> and <character>?"

"Yes, yes I did" she said smiling.

"So just remember, more than one thing can be true at once, and we can also choose to suspend our disbelief to participate in the fun and magic of the places we visit."

She nodded and rolled over to go to sleep.

So maybe I didn't 100% put magic into the day, but hopefully with her analytical brain, I was able to make things a little more magical for her. Sometimes, I'm just so surprised by the things she asks me that I don't have a way to explain them in the moment. Sometimes I say "You know honey, I'm just not prepared to talk to you about this right now. Do you think you could ask me another time?" and she almost always says yes. But I'm pleased with the way this conversation went. 

I'm also just blown away at the way she considered everything, and even asking about the characters just being people in costumes. I think when I was older than her age I might have thought the characters at theme parks were odd, but I don't think it would have occurred to me that they were just people in costumes. She's so smart, and has such an interesting way of looking at the world. I simply want to enable her to have a fun and magical childhood. I want to let her be a child as long as possible, while still fostering her incredibly creative yet analytical mind. I know I don't always get it right, but yesterday was a good day.