Your ordinary is extraordinary
Last week was a milestone week for our family. And this week was as well.
Last week, the boy I despaired would never drive, work, or be able to live on his own passed the last test and got his high school equivalency certificate in the form of his GED. He has graduated! The next day, he went to the DMV with John to get his driver’s license. After some bureaucratic pauses, I got this text from him: “Watch out for me on the road I am legally allowed to drive.”
A whole new world has opened up for him—and for us. That evening, he texted a screenshot of an email he received from his favorite equestrian tack shop offering him a part-time job there! Graduation, license, and job, all in the span of 24 hours. He wanted to celebrate with an angel food cake with a thin layer of white icing. We added unicorn sprinkles. Do you have any idea how hard it is to actually ice an angel food cake, much less slice one with icing on it? LOL.
Last Friday, he drove to the barn on his own. He did ask John to follow him in my car, which John did, turning back home just before the barn so no one would see him trailing Feliks. The next day, he drove on his own to the barn. I loved that he felt okay asking for that help. As a friend wrote, “You’ve raised a son who is able to be vulnerable. Bravo!”
As I said on Facebook that day, “Someone drove himself to the barn and back today, leaving Mr Ptak and me here to stare blankly at one another like we were each missing a limb.”
The next day, he drove it alone AND on his way home, he stopped at a grocery store and texted to ask if we needed anything. This sounds so normal. It was so much not normal for a kid who would never go into a store alone and pay for things alone. We were stunned. I asked for a few small things to give him the satisfaction of contributing to our lives.
When you have spent at least 19 years being hypervigilant, your sympathetic nervous system is always on high alert and your parasympathetic nervous system atrophies. This is the life of parents, perhaps particularly the parents of children considered disabled. John and I took turns with Feliks, leaving us to have little connection time ourselves. Now we can reconnect. I am determined that we shall ride bikes together, for starters. And I can start writing books again.
Last Sunday, Feliks left to ride horses with friends. Hours later, John and I are working in the living room on our computers. He quietly said, “I think we won.” I said, “what?” “I think we won with Feliks. I really think we did.” You might not understand the relief and awe in that statement, but we both did.
And this week, our first born, Emma, and I celebrated our shared birthday on the 16th. She turned 30! I turned 63 and celebrated with a delicious vegan cheesecake with homemade raspberry compote. We will celebrate together when she arrives home from her six months on the road later this month. I am so proud of her making this solo journey.
Turning 30 is a huge birthday for Emma and brought up all kinds of memories for me and John, some of which we had memorialized in a song we commissioned for her to celebrate this milestone. She was surprised, to say the least. And we all cried when we first heard it.
First, Emma gave me my best birthday present by being born on my 33rd birthday, and this year, Feliks gave me my best birthday present by starting his first real job on that day.
Time passes so quickly, especially the older we get. Don’t miss any of it. Even the hard bits. Pay attention. There is gold in those everyday, quotidian, ordinary moments. They are the most extraordinary moments we will ever live. The first time something happens, we call it extraordinary, and then when it happens again and again, we just call it ordinary. But those moments are always extraordinary. Don’t ever forget that. Those are the quiet moments we remember, not just the big Chicago musical kinds of moments.
