Sarah Nigbor

Though the faces around the Thanksgiving dinner table have changed with the advent of years, I remain grateful to my time with them and to preserving traditions of the past. I really miss the people who are no longer around that table with us, but I know that’s a part of life. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to accept.

A talk with a friend recently hit home. We talked about the different phases of life and how we have entered a new one. I hate to call it middle age, but maybe that’s what it is. I’m no longer young like a teen or 20-something, but I’m also not a senior citizen. Part of me feels like a carefree, fun 25-year-old, especially when the radio in my car is blasting and the windows are down. Ready to party and exist on four hours of sleep. Another part of me feels the burden of responsibility, of being a parent to four tweens/teens who are always looking to me for answers, help, food, advice, food, money, and did I say food? They never stop eating. All while maintaining a career and a household, working a second job, volunteering, and helping my mother, who lives alone.

The friend I spoke with was helping their mother-in-law find a new home at an assisted living facility. She could no longer safely care for herself in her own home, so they felt it prudent that she move to a place where she could still be independent and have her own space, but help if needed. This is a phase in life I do not feel ready for: Being the caretaker of the generations ahead of and behind me. But ready or not, it is here.

I remember asking my grandpa to tie a balloon for me when I was a tiny girl. My fingers weren’t strong enough yet to do it, and as I watched him tie off the balloon, I remember thinking there was nothing he couldn’t do. I just knew he’d be able to do anything I asked because he was the strongest, most capable person I knew. To me at that time, tying a balloon off was a most enviable skill. He could even tie his own shoelaces, run a lawnmower, drive a tractor and squawk like a duck. Wow, I thought. One day I’ll be a big person like him with cool skills.

I’ve been in that role for some time now with my own kids. In fact, my daughter recently told me that she knows I can fix anything because I am her mom and that’s what moms do. She thinks it’s pretty neat that I can untangle knotted jewelry, find lost homework, whistle, and pile wood faster than her brothers (thanks Grandpa). I still can’t replicate his duck squawk he used to tease us grandkids.

While my beloved grandparents are gone, I now watch as my mother enters what Grandpa called the “not so golden years.” She is still one of the most active people I know, constantly busy with something, whether it’s her garden, caring for her cat or baking. But it’s undeniable, the years are creeping on and health problems abound. I can only hope that I can take care of her in the coming years as well as she and my grandparents took care of me.

I found my first gray hair the other day, but instead of becoming depressed, I was surprisingly (to me) unphased by it. What’s one gray hair to the thousands of memories and moments that have led me to this point? The life I have lived thus far has been rich with blessings and challenges. I would not be 20 again if you paid me, unless I could retain the wisdom I’ve attained thus far. I don’t know it all, but I know more than I used to.

So as we sit around our Thanksgiving tables this week, I hope you are as grateful as I am for whatever phase of life you are in.