No Time Like the Present

I really wanted to start this amazing blog, share my dazzling insights into the world of parenting, astound others with my clever approach to balancing music, books and art with childrearing. You know, capture those moments of clarity...little epiphanies you have throughout the day. Especially as I venture into the unknown (more on that later). But today, the first day of my I'm-such-a-cool-blogging-mom-chick, I broke my foot.
I'm about to move three kids, two dogs, one car, three floors of household goods, eight years of accumulation, and oh yeah, a bunny, 2000 miles west in 12 days. And now I'm on crutches. I'm not really complaining because a number of friends have spent the winter on crutches recovering from various injuries far more severe than mine. But I do think it's a good example of God's sense of humor. (Or whatever/whomever your into.)
Not very rock & roll is it?
But this isn't about my foot. It's about beginnings and the thing I always forget about beginnings is that they are preceeded by endings, and endings can really suck. If you are waiting for an injury to heal, an ending is obviously celebratory. The day I pack my crutches will be most happy. But it's the other endings, the ones that take place before you leave on a new chapter in your life; when you leave home, when you break up with someone, when you move out of state, when it's two a.m. and there are no more encores. It's sad and scary even if you know you are going to grow. Even if you know it's the next logical step in your life. When I moved to Chicago in 1988, I was done with school and working as a waitress in a theme diner and reading a lot of existential literature that I thought I understood but didn't. On the way to work, wearing a pink rayon diner dress and bobby socks, I decided to keep driving north on I65 instead of going to my shift. I showed up in my old roommates loft with $500 dollars and one change of clothes. Thinking she might be worried, I called my mom who answered gaily with "Oh Hello. Did you run away from home darlin'?" I've been in this area ever since. The kids who had to cover my shift didn't see it as an act of bravery and adventure; the beginning of my post-graduate odyssey. They were just pissed they had to serve broccoli cheese soup extra fast. Painful ending.
That was the beginning of the next twenty years of my life and now I'm leaving again. I have a lot more luggage and a lot less existential baggage this time around. As hard as it is to say goodbye, this time I'm not sneaking off. Tonight I'm having dinner with an old friend from Grad School to say goodbye. Another ending.
So for the next two weeks before I leave, I'm going to party and I'm going to cry and then I'm going to hobble on my crutches into the sunset.