The Rhythm of Life

I was born in a little town in northern Wisconsin.  Ashland’s population was listed as 9,615 for as long as I can remember.  It is a pretty town along Lake Superior’s Chequamagon Bay.  And no, that word didn’t end up in every spelling bee.

Growing up and going to school seemed to go on and on forever.  Day after day our childhood stretched before us in a slow and lazy pace.  We never seemed to change, neither did our friends.  Our summers were spent playing wiffle ball, swimming and bike rides.  In the winter, we would layer clothes upon clothes to keep ourselves warm in our winter playground of snow and ice.

The rhythm was beating softly and slowly in childhood.  There was no hurry to grow older.  The only things we wished would hurry were the days until Christmas or the first day of summer vacation.  We learned lessons by do-overs and taking turns.  Surely there were hurt feelings, skinned knees and tears.  But those are the things that shaped us and made our childhood important.  We did not wish to be anything other than what we were, little kids.

The carefree days of leaf piles and popsicles, gave way to AM radios, Mad magazine and braces.  Before we had a chance to even catch our breath, we were wishing to be older.  The rhythm was moving a bit faster and not quite so faint.  We wanted desperately to answer all of the questions being asked of us. 

What college will you go to?  What do you want to be?  Where will you live?  Do you think you want to get married?  What about kids?  All of  these questions swirling in the head of a teenager along with the normal wishes for new clothes, clear skin and a boyfriend. 

Before we answered all of the questions, we were out of high school and moving away to go to college.  And in four breathless years we had our first loves, college football games, dances and in a blur we graduated and we were set down in our lives much like we were the first day of kindergarten.  We didn’t know what to do, where to go or even what we wanted.  It’s a lot  to figure out when you’re in your twenties.

Then in the blink of an eye, we had jobs.  Our path seemed a little clearer as the rhythm picked up pace and volume.  There were days we couldn’t keep up with the crazy beat of our lives unfolding and unfolding, always leading somewhere and never by the path you expected to take.

And before you know it, you are married and your kids are grown and you are with someone you have spent more than half of your life with.  The rhythm of life is louder and faster now. 

We realize how quickly our childhood slipped away from us.  We find ourselves asking what happened to the little children, now replaced by young adults.  We look at old pictures and realize that we have changed a lot in the past few years.  But somehow we can’t ever see the change as it happens.

We try and hold onto memories, like snapshots of our lives.  The laughter of friends at a party you attended, the smile of your husband when he came home from work, the smell of your Mom’s bread baking in the oven and the voices of all people who shaped your life, but have traveled on to where you will meet them again one day.

The rhythm of life is the beat that drives us in this great dance we call life.  You can’t sit this one out, all you can do is dance.

Thanks for listening.

Anne