Am I There Yet?

I’ve been feeling the need to express myself more fully than the little squares of Instagram allow. I know I’m late getting onboard the blogging train but here I am writing my very first blog post at age 65!

Years ago my brother sent me a humorous and memorable birthday card. The outside of the card portrayed a family with many children crowded into a station wagon. Above the heads of each child was a bubble reading “Are we there yet???” When I opened the card the statement simply read…. “When we were kids we never got there and we were grateful!” I still laugh about the card. I think I laughed because it was our family. Eight kids crammed into our light blue station wagon, never in seat belts, moving freely from one row of seats to another. My Dad always drove because my mother never got a driver’s license. Maybe he preferred it that way so her job on our long road trips to Michigan would be to keep the kids in line. I do remember him yelling “Don’t make me pull over!” He never did. I have to say I think I liked the anticipated car rides as much as the final destination.

Over the years I’ve thought about the question “Am I there yet?” I’ve thought about its meaning for me. Where exactly is “there”?

I’ve tried to be content with where I was. Sometimes it may not have been a comfortable place to be but I always knew the hardest times were only temporary. The never-ending sleepless nights wouldn’t last forever and that was a result of a baby I had longed for, prayed for. I miss those long nights of rocking babies.

The 1893, 3000 sq. ft. prairie farmhouse we affectionately called “Ryerson” seemed like an eternal project. We were very naïve about the amount of work that actually needed to happen but 12 years after purchasing the home we sold it for a decent profit. The greatest value wasn’t financial, the rehab project taught our kids to work. They are all extremely hard workers, all college graduates, and successful.

I returned to college after my fifth baby was born. It wasn’t easy. I had night classes (not virtual) but a 40-minute drive to the campus. I had homework and assignments. My oldest was only 12, but she stepped up and made dinner on those nights. I graduated college at 40 and had a very fulfilling career as a Sign Language interpreter.

I started my own business, Highmeadow Textiles, at the onset of the Covid 19 Pandemic. My Instagram following grew rapidly after one of my reels went viral. And then one day I woke up and it was all gone. A hacker stole my account, which I never retrieved. I started all over again. He stole my account but not my spirit and certainly not my drive!