Empty Nest Rehearsal

by Ashley

Today is Wednesday, May 27, which means all four kids have been in Texas for a week now. We knew the first month and a half of summer would be quiet and slow, and I got a few items (games and lawn chairs) to give Philip and I some enjoyment for the break, but we also knew there'd be plenty of projects to keep us busy. Summer school for me starts next week, which is always more fun than work. I'm tacking on to that my goal of cataloguing the entire school library, which I've only gotten about a tenth of the way, so far. Philip will be tutoring one of his students, continuing maintenance work around the school and teacher housing, as well as working through his last principal certification course. So, plenty of trickle work for us to do.

But this past week, once school ended, Philip and I selected to be relaxingly productive. Our days have been comprised of leisurely morning coffee around 7 am (it seems I am now a full-fledged morning person), looking out over the now flowing river, reading/studying topics of our choice, soaking up sun in those new lawn chairs when it's sunny, and choosing some household chore to dig into. And I must say, the house is looking rather neat and orderly these days...and staying that way! We've been able to deep clean and root out a lot of stuff that has needlessly accumulated, and rearranged spaces that haven't been working very well. Dishes have been much nicer to do, with just the two of us, and dinners much smaller. And the quiet...it doesn't bother us at all. The songbirds and squirrels are in full swing, usually serenading us at all hours of the morning, afternoon, evening, night...a result of the sun not really going down anymore. We both have really enjoyed the feeling that time is stretched right now, and we jokingly refer to when we think we've accomplished a week's worth of work in just a few hours. There have been minimal interruptions, with school being out, and village life really quiet right now.

The best part of this time though, is the informal assessment of how Philip and I are doing in our relationship. We both have witnessed, or read about, the potential demise of married couples when, after decades of being married with kids, and the children have left home, what's left are two strangers who've been living parallel lives. That is not the case here. We still have so much to talk about...our philosophies, intellectual queries, inner reflections, plans for the day...week...month...next five years... We still enjoy each other's company as much as we did 21 years ago, if not more. But it's taken work. Still does. If you don't purposely engage in keeping a relationship alive and dynamic, it doesn't stay bonded and unified by a wedding band alone. We engage in every tough conversation, and analyze every breakdown in communication. Sometimes, I think we approach those junctures both as emotional human beings, as well as psychoanalytical scientists. We always joke about whose turn it is to be, "on the couch."

I've said it before, that I've had much to learn about myself, and my role in the relationships that are in my life, and that the journey through my twenties and thirties seemed to crawl along, like an infant first learning the moves. Now, in my forties, it feels like that pace has picked up to that of a novice runner. Things are clicking now, things that have been in the works for years. Life out here, with its minimal distractions has certainly helped that pace, as well as the knowledge that our kids are all about to fly away for good, to continue their journeys. I've felt the need to prepare my body, mind and soul for that major transition, because if my identity has become too secured in the role of "Mom," I won't weather that change well. I have Philip to thank for that precaution. He has encouraged me for a long time to develop who I am holistically, rather than become confined to any one phase, in time and space. And I have pursued that diligently. I recently read Siddartha, a short, yet deeply philosophical read, on the nature of humanity, and our quest for knowledge and wisdom. I've always gravitated towards the analogy of human life as the flow of a river, and the fact that the book hits on that squarely, obviously connected its content for me quite seamlessly. But two particular sections really stood out to me, mostly because as our kids graduate and move on to whatever is next for them, just like most parents before me, I question whether or not we've taught them the most important things they need to know, so that their mistakes will be less than ours. I'd like to quote these sections here, because to restate them lessens their value.

"Do you then really think that you have committed your follies in order to spare your son them? Can you then protect your son from [the ways of the world?] How? Through instruction, through prayers, trough exhortation? My friend, have you forgotten...could your father's piety, your teacher's exhortations, your own knowledge, your own seeking, protect you? Which father, which teacher, could prevent [your younger self] from living your own life, from soiling yourself with life, from loading yourself with sin, from swallowing the bitter drink yourself, from finding your own path? Do you think, my dear friend, that anybody is spared this path? Perhaps your little son, because you would like to see him spared sorrow and pain and disillusionment? But if you were to die ten times for him, you would not alter his destiny in the slightest." -'The Son', Siddartha

And the underlying philosophy under that...

"Wisdom is not communicable. The wisdom which a wise man tries to communicate always sounds foolish...Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it." -Siddartha

Of course, the Bible's Proverbs said it long before Hesse did, when he wrote his book. As truth does, it continues to echo and cycle through many sources.

"Wisdom cries aloud in the street,

in the markets she raises her voice;

at the head of the noisy streets she cries out;

at the entrance of the city gates she speaks...

Because they hated knowledge

and did not choose the fear of the Lord,

would have none of my counsel

and despised all my reproof,

therefore they shall eat the fruit of their way,

and have their fill of their own devices.

...but whoever listens to me will dwell secure

and will be at ease, without dread of disaster."

(Chapter 1, verses 20-21, 29-31, 33)

In other words, what's done is done, and like so many before me, I have to let the kids go, to walk their own paths, come what may. My hope is that we gave them a solid foundation to which they can return, when they go astray, and that they will allow themselves to be softened and taught along the way. Easy peasy, right?

---

In regard to life specifically in Alaska, since I last wrote, the landscape went through its usual seasonal changes. The cold weather hung around a bit longer than usual, and we were still getting snowstorms in mid-April, after the snow had started to melt. It was rather disheartening, to see bare patches of ground for the first time since October, only to have them covered up again. Yet the thaw prevailed, and the river finally broke up for us on May 12th, three days later than the last two years we've been here. It was what they call a "dynamic" breakup; a combination of colder than average temps, with less snowfall in some places, above average in others. The ice was much thicker this year, which creates more jams and flooding in various places up and down the river. Here in Kaltag, we're situated fairly well, although even we had some flooding back town from our other tributary, Kaltag Creek. Roads that have always been accessible were under water, and our main bridge was almost washed out. There were several homes that were close to the floodwater, and many people who were nervous, especially since the wellhead that supplies the city's water was completely submerged for a few days. We had to conserve water until that danger passed.

Ice traveled further up the bank than any villagers here had seen in their lifetime. I took my class down to where the shore usually is, and they were amazed at the giant chunks of ice that awaited them. The most notable event for us, however, was when we saw two young moose, trapped on a chunk of ice, floating down the river, right by our house. (The photo and video are in our AK Phlash Adventures album.) Another rare sight to see, as told to us by the locals, which indicated that the ice went out really fast when it gave way upriver from us. Hopefully, those moose found a nice pitstop somewhere to make it to shore. We also saw barrels, soil composting bins, a boat motor, and other random debris float by. Thankfully, we didn't see any homes or major structures, which still doesn't negate the fact that there were several villages that did sustain quite a bit of damage from flooding, one of which included one of the schools in our district. So, even though breakup was an awe-inspiring event for us, I always tack on gratitude for the fact that our village was fortunate, unlike others, who once again will now have to rebuild and reassess.

Well, that's all for now. We still have a lot of summer left, and when the kids get back, they can fill you in on their time in Texas, which they seem to be enjoying. Until next time...