Sweet and Gentle Milestones

Our family hit a milestone two weeks ago. Or, better said, our son did. Nick graduated from Wake Forest University. Magna cum laude. With a degree in Psychology and two minors. My own son did better at my alma mater than I did. And I’m thrilled for him.


Many of you readers have followed Nick’s journey, which has been a rather remarkable one, to say the least. And so it was with enormous gratitude and yes, pride, that we watched him march across the stage and accept his diploma. Our throats caught emotion and our hearts and minds filled with unspeakable joy.


Milestones. It seems like we’ll all be facing them in these next few weeks. Commencements. Weddings. First jobs. Prom. Our daughter will hit a milestone in two weeks when she’ll perform the difficult Fritz Kreisler Praeludium and Allegro at her spring recital. Her nearly-80-year-old grandmother will make the trek to Connecticut to experience it; as a younger woman, she taught more than 200 violin students a week, and considers watching her own grandchild play this signature piece of violin repertoire part of her reward for all of those years of diligence.


It is, of course, the successful passing of mini-milestones that allow us to enjoy the major ones. I sat through Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star ten thousand times in preparation for the glory of the Kreisler piece. And yet I still get a lump in my throat when I hear a three-year-old play it. It brings a floodgate of memories of the hours spent in our living room, holding the bow on my kids’ 1/16th size violin or singing the song or turning on the tape so they could listen to it as they fell into dreamland.


One must make sweet and gentle leaps before she can make more strenuous ones. And so it goes. On and on and on.


During the course of my more than twenty-two years of motherhood, there were many days when I found my mini-milestone to be as sweet and gentle as a shower taken without interruption. Or a morning met with dry sheets on all four of our kids’ beds. Sweet and gentle was the mini-milestone of ninja turtle underpants instead of pull-ups; Tide-with-a-bow-on-top and our kid’s initiation into personal laundry instead of mom-the-family-laundress doing it all. Sweet and gentle milestones included clean kids’ bedrooms without nudging. Christmas recitals and soccer tournaments. Our daughter singing—live and onstage—to the Jonas Brothers.


I have come to realize that one doesn’t get to experience the joy of a major milestone until one witnesses the victories of multiple sweet and gentle mini-milestones along the way. Book contracts don’t come along until one has written dozens of articles and stories gratis. Singing to the Jonas Brothers doesn’t happen until one has memorized all of their songs, could lip sync them in each one of their movies, and traveled great distances to more than one of their concerts. Homes don’t get renovated until one has read hundreds of decorating magazines and made dozens of expensive decorating mistakes. One cannot perform the Kreisler concerto until she has mastered the Bach A Minor Concerto first. And college graduations just can’t happen until one has pulled all-nighters for finals and research papers for four years running.


As you go through the days of June, recognizing achievements in your own life and in those of whom you most love, allow yourself the indulgent luxury of re-living a few of the more painful and monotonous memories of the path to victory. Re-live, if briefly, some of the journey. When your daughter accepts the math award, remember all of those nights when you helped her with simple addition. At the tennis banquet, think of all of those days when you were the human ball machine, gently tossing her balls so that she could one day play on the varsity team. The days of June are sweet: they are abundantly filled with milestones of all shapes and sizes. May they bring to you, like they are bringing to us, unspeakable joy!