Change is in my blood, inherited quite honestly from my mother. Moving furniture, repainting bedrooms, changing wallpaper was the norm growing up, and by default, my husband married into it. But that’s okay because change can be good. Hours of planning, hard work and maybe some sore muscles seems rather mote when you stand back and admire the finished product!
Why not enjoy change? Why not put the sound of a different drummer into practice?
And why not pass it on to your children?
Recently, my energetic eleven-year-old granddaughter took me into her bedroom at their family summer trailer. Normally, Julia shares the space with her older sister, but Laura is working this summer and Julia has inherited the bunk beds and wanted to show me the changes she’d made!
“Like mother, like daughter,” I remarked quietly, smiling at the irony of it.
Two new posters, books, a journal, art work and a large stuffed dog filled her top bunk. Julia’s face beamed with pleasure. “This is my play area,” she said, climbing the small ladder to demonstrate how a multitude of pillows supported her back and feet. “I can read and draw…and write!” And a perfect place for some ‘alone’ time, I thought.
The blanket I taught her to weave graced her night table and the neat, lower bunk where she slept completed the small space. It was beautiful, warm and inviting, and I felt a strange desire to climb to the top bunk myself and nestle down among the large stuffed dog and pillows with my favourite book.
Why did I react that way? Was it the delight on Julia’s face? Was it the memory of similar emotions I’ve experienced as I’ve made changes? Or was it just a whimsical idea? Not sure, but I let my granddaughter know how beautiful it looked and quietly wondered how hard it would be for her to leave it when the summer ended.
Life brings many changes. Some we initiate, as Julia did. Some we welcome with open arms—even with gratitude—some not so happily. And yet, life is full of change from the moment we take our first breath, to the day our children leave home or the day we decide to let the grey come through and stop colouring our hair. How we accept the change is really up to us. Do we fight it or do we embrace it and accept the challenge that comes with it?
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