Where You Belong

It’s the first day of school, and the first day of a new chapter. But in so many ways it feels like a brand new book.

Nine years ago, I had tears in my eyes when I sent my first kid off to Kindergarten. Not because I was sad. I was happy for him to start a new adventure and begin to find his place in this world. My little was only a few weeks old at the time. My mom was sick, I had life to do.

When the little went off to Kindergarten a few years later, there were no tears. It felt like time for us to shine. I was done have babies attached to my hip all day long for the first time in 10 years. But what do I do with myself? I didn’t know, and that year I didn’t accomplish a whole lot more than napping often and drinking a lot of coffee while I contemplated this. I didn’t shine, not the way I wanted to. I spent a lot of time helping in classrooms, and kept doing a different version of the mom thing. And it was fine…but that’s a nonsense word.

The second year my little was in school, I took on the title of PTO President. And I was extra…so extra. I devoted so much time to this role and while I loved every minute of it, it often felt like the most mom thing I could possibly doing. Where was the “me” in all of this? But it was fine.

Last year was a clusterfuck of figuring that out while trying to navigate high school credits in middle school, a disaster of an elementary teacher, and starting a business for myself. There were thoughts, and goals, and ideas. There were wins and losses. Tears. Joys. A lot of fighting over school, both with my kids and teachers. I’m not even sure where the time went or how it all got done, but it passed. And it was fine.

So, today. A new school year, a new school for my 3rd grader, amongst peers who are on the same level. Finally. And for the first time in his school career, I cried after dropping the him off. In third grade. A seemingly anti-climactic year. But, for the first time since he started school, he’s where he needs to be. And it’s not just fine.

The middle schooler is king of the school this year. He is taking 10th grade geometry, thriving with friends and academics, and will be off to Washington DC in a few short weeks for the trip of a lifetime. He’s where he needs to be. It’s way better than fine.

And me. I have an organized, finished workspace. I have a lineup of custom clients. I have three upcoming markets to prepare for that I’m actually excited about and which do not fall in the “unknown” category of whether or not they will be successful. I have new projects and plans, a life to live. I’m where I need to be. It’s so much more than fine.

So here we are, back to Day 1. Chapter 1 of a new book. Metaphorically, emotionally. And at the beginning-ish of my “junk journey”. One of the things I have been working on over the last few months is getting familiar with junk journals and building them from scratch. Understanding their purpose and functionality. Finding joy in giving new life to things we might usually toss away. Making them beautiful again.

This month, I’ve created myself a journaling space to explore the music that is special to me. A spread a day, each featuring a song that has some sort of meaning in my life. And I have a list of songs to fill most of those pages, but it didn’t hit me which should come first until I dropped my little pumpkin pie off this morning, to a place where he needs to be. A song that wasn’t even on my radar until I physically spoke the words aloud through my teary eyes, alone in the car: Where You Belong.

Taking back the time

From pieces that we find

Making our own minds

Unwind

I’m more than meets the eye

There is no need to hide

All is clear this time

We’re (more than) fine

Not to lose a thought

We’re only moving forward

Moments that were caught

Will shine

Every second is to keep

And every minute counts

Turning hours into weeks

Save them over time

Moments pass eventually

And turn up where they can be found

Where you belong

Dark day are gone

Somebody new

Takes us along

For all who knew

Just one more chance

For something new

No one but you.

We’ve arrived. And it feels pretty great to know where we belong.