Mother's Day Hike

I'm acutely aware these days—with my oldest son's 18th birthday and high school graduation approaching and the twins turning 14 and finishing up eighth grade—of the approaching finish line. I know, I know, once a mother, always a mother. But it feels like much (I was going to say "most," but I didn't want to jinx the next four years) of the heavy lifting is behind me, the caretaking, cake-baking years (though no doubt there will be plenty of heart-breaking years ahead). I approach this transition with a mixture of teary-eyed nostalgia and giddy anticipation—for all the adventures that lie ahead for my kids and for those that I hope lie ahead for me.



In the meantime, we celebrated Mother's Day by going on a hike at one of our favorite natural areas, after picking up pastries at one of my favorie bakeries. It's a place we've gone hiking at again and again over the years, usually around Easter or Mother's Day. We can measure the passage of time by how much the kids have grown in comparison to how much the fallen spruce tree's root mass has shrunk.



The place, as such places are, is infused with memories: Finding hermit crab shells and deer antlers. The time five-year-old M picked up a giant piece of birch bark as he was walking, not realizing it had been placed to cover a giant dog turd, which he proceeded to step in in his brand-new shoes. The enormous rock shaped like an Easter egg that three-year-old E found and then carried a couple of miles back to the car, staggering all the way  (and, of course, how a few months later Z threw said rock and hit E in the head, defending himself thus: "I said, 'Watch out!'").



In a sign of imminent independence, M met us partway around the hiking loop after he got off of work (a busy Mother's Day morning shift, which a secret informant told me M handled with aplomb), bearing a gift he went out of his way to get and a card he made with a message written in his uniquely funny and heartfelt voice.



There are so many times over the course of raising these three kids when I've felt out of my depth, certain I'm doing it all wrong. But for Mother's Day, at least, out in nature with my kids, with so many memories behind us and so much possibility ahead, I felt as if I haven't done all that bad.

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