On Repeat
I was up very late last night, providing moral support for my husband. Due to storms here in Chicago, his original flight home from a work trip in Knoxville was cancelled. He found another way to get here which involved him flying first to Dallas. The plane for his connecting flight from Dallas was then late arriving, and then we had another batch of storms come in and the flight then proceeded to be delayed in 45 minute increments for 7 HOURS. He got in line to board twice during this process too, and each time they had to sit back down. Finally, at 11 pm he and the others were in their seats on the plane, seatbelted and ready to go, and they CANCELLED THE FLIGHT.
I joked with my husband that it was easier getting my dad home from the UK the second week of March, 2020, than it was to get him home from Knoxville yesterday.
My husband was rightfully frustrated by the entire day he had, but when I spoke with him this morning he seemed to have additional capacity for acceptance and patience after a night’s sleep in an airport hotel. He spoke of how the other passengers on the plane were so disgruntled and frustrated with the airline employees, and we shared our thoughts of compassion for both groups. No one had it easy there at Dallas Love Field last night.
My kids don’t have school today. I am carrying into today my own fresh perspective on allowing and being present. I didn’t set my alarm last night and slept until almost 8 am. Right away I sensed my inner critic voice- “Who do you think you are to sleep in like this?” I gently shifted the voice aside. I felt some of my typical agitation at the idea of my kids not having any set structure today, and again I eased myself away from talking to them from my internal chaos. All that angst is from that critical voice. To connect with my kids, I first need to connect with myself.
As I sit here at my kitchen table typing, my son is playing Xbox from our couch. My daughter is in her bedroom coming up with a study plan for an AP exam quickly approaching. My husband is back on a plane which is due to land in St. Louis in a short while. God willing, that final jump from St. Louis to Chicago will happen smoothly later today.
I am facing the corner of our living space where I used to work. That job would have granted me no allowance for today. Kids home, husband trapped in Texas? Pretend you don’t have kids. Ignore your inner cues that you need sleep. Get on the hamster wheel and run. I could be pushing myself to get my kids to do something; I could be telling myself what a failure I am by not having anything more set for them today. But I am not doing that anymore.
I take my own hand and redirect, the way I did when walking behind my toddler in someone else’s home with sharp corners. “No sweetheart, over here. What feels good, love? Let’s do that instead.”
I receive the emails from Longreads each Friday, and this morning I read this essay by Elena Megalos which brought me to tears. It’s about the cosmos, and time, and love, particularly for our children. I cried.
Afterwards, I felt a desire to listen to Radiohead’s In Rainbows. I was looking for something mellow to support my mood, but somehow neglected to recall the emotional significance of the album, which came out the year before I got married. My husband and I listened to that album on repeat as we made several trips up I-196 in Michigan towards the town of Saugatuck, where we got married. To listen to that album is to be back in our car on those trips. I watch the line of highway as we drive. The trees blur and I let the music in. I think of my husband. I think of my sister, who was recovering from a stem cell transplant as we made those day trips to Saugatuck and planned for a day that was about us and also so much more than us. There was so much uncertainty that year.
Megalos’ essay let everything in. My love feels as expansive as the universe. Of course I would want to listen to In Rainbows after reading it. The song ‘Reckoner’ is usually what breaks me.
I started a playlist for myself that is titled “Kismet.” As much as I may reach for certain music at times, the songs in my Kismet playlist are the ones that have been delivered to me. They are the songs that are playing on SiriusXM when I start the car at 5:45 am to drive to my barre studio. They arrive during Pure Barre classes, a beat that provides something I didn’t even realize I needed. They come up after I finish listening to an album and the algorithm decides to feed me more of what it thinks I may like, or, better yet, music that comes up from something my husband played in the car before I entered, music outside of my typical listening. Regardless, all of them come to me, and I have curated this collection as a reminder that I don’t always need to work to get what I need. Sometimes, effortlessly, gracefully, it just arrives.
Some tracks that have been gifted to me this way recently-
The Leading Bird- Marketa Irglova
Pennies in the Fountain-Glen Hansard
Driving to Texas- Tom Morello
Around the World- Red Hot Chili Peppers (I lovvvved Californication when it first came out- songs from that album always bring me back)
Interstate Love Song (Acoustic Version)- Stone Temple Pilots
Like a Stone- Audioslave
Which Side Are You On?- Natalie Merchant
Thank U- Alanis Morissette
I made my kids tomato sandwiches for lunch. My husband introduced me to the construction- good bread, lightly toasted, mayonnaise, and sliced tomato. I came into our relationship built on cucumber sandwiches, it was the English way. To have another option of equal simplicity shook me. There are so many ways to capture the basics. There are so many ways to connect with our hearts.
It’s not as hard as I once thought.
