Both Sides Now

We stock up on new school supplies, fingering the fuzzy, but impractical, pencil cases and marveling at the colors of pens and markers. And we are excited, because with the new things come new beginnings. Yet, as we unpack our bags and take off the tags, we realize that the new beginnings come with new responsibilities and the end of endless free hours.
 
I open the mailbox to find a paycheck, excited to see such an envelope in the mail after what feels like a long time. Yet, as I open the envelope and prepare to take it to the bank and watch it disappear into the payment of bills, I realize that the paycheck comes with new commitments and the new scarcity of time that is my own and trips we meant to take.
 
I put my daughter on a train, and I am excited that she has things to do and people to do them with and the ability to function independently. Yet, as the train pulls away, I realize that I am alone, with a certain amount of independence myself, but in that moment, without anyone to talk to.
 
It appears that just about everything we do comes with two sides--we wouldn't be buying school supplies if school were not upon us, yet it's nearly impossible to have school without at least a little bit of trepidation about the schedules and emotions that will come with it. I wouldn't have a paycheck without work, yet it's nearly impossible to have work without giving up at least a little bit of family and personal time. And kids become independent--as we'd like them to--yet it can feel nearly impossible to adjust our view as we watch it happen. But if we don't embrace--or at least accept--both sides, it's hard to have one. So we fight fear, and we try to celebrate change, and we accept what we have to give up. Because in order to have one side, sometimes you just have to have both.