Today and To Maui

Growing up, I occasionally accompanied my Mom to her office on Saturday mornings. The 38th floor of the Oxford Center Building was quiet on the weekends, nearly empty save a few other over achieving name partners racking up extra billable hours. In the privacy of her office, my mom would check her mail, add a couple more 'period and paragraph' commands to her dictation, top the leaning tower of tiny tapes awaiting her secretary, and pack up a couple heavy brown files to export home. She used to joke that lawyers never needed to lift weights. 

In the meantime, I would venture to the firm's supply closet. Past the library, around the corner from the mini basketball hoop, across from the break room which was always stocked with hot chocolate packets, were the double doors to heaven. Shelves and shelves lined with the office manager's finest handiwork. I would sift through manila folders, transparency sheets, legal pads, paper clips, highlighters and Bic pens, gathering must haves to complete my imaginary, entrepreneurial line of work. 

Back in my mom's office, I would transcribe my own notes while my Mom dictated hers. I would punch holes, index, and file while my Mom reassembled the parts of her latest case. I would envision my path to a corner office just as my Mom had paved her own.

*** 

On Monday morning, I was packing my bag to head out of town for the week. First stop Charlotte, then on to L.A. Mary came upstairs to let me know she had just 'finished her work too.' She told me she had needed to do a couple things. I chuckled. 

Her 'work' is encapsulated in the little freebie notebooks I bring home from the office; volumes of them at this point. She will scribble incomprehensible notes, filling up every line of a single page while narrating all kinds of stuff: messages to her classmates and cousins, tips on dancing, art projects, and making pancakes, her schedule over the next month, and anything else that is at the top of her inquisitive mind. 

She is clearly mimicking me. And recently, as I've found myself opening my laptop more at home, Mary and I will do early morning work together in the dim light of the living room. The process takes me back to the Saturdays I spent with my mom downtown. 

I can't find anything negative about it. In fact, when I was young I found the mother / daughter time enjoyable and even motivating. But similar to me, Mary will finish her 'work' before I do. I'll ask her for one more second, one more finishing touch, one more 'save', 'hit send', 'okay shutting down,' 'patience, please.' I can remember my Mom saying, 'one more thing' as well.  

But at the close of last week, my VP reminded me to not only have a weekend, but to enjoy it. 

I responded, 'these days, it's hard to do that.' 

His reply, '...but important to try.' 

So I did. I closed my computer on Saturday morning, once and for all, got down on the ground and just played with my kids. We went bike riding, made Valentines, and hung out at the playground. I focused on my husband's line of work instead of my own at his bank dinner followed by several games of Bocce on Saturday night. And the icing on the cake, I helped Peter's family celebrate his Oma's 90th birthday party on Sunday. 

As I fly from point A to point B this morning, I've been reflecting on the people around the table on Sunday. Oma's sons, grand kids, and great grand babies. Her close friends; the people who have always relieved the stress of life, instead of applied it.  

I've been thinking about the words summarized in a champagne toast dedicated to her. It was about the cookies and cakes she made to sweeten a day, the socks and blankets she knitted to warm a heart, the offshore adventures documented in photo albums, the laughter contrasted with the straight German practicality she was raised with, the people and animals, here and in heaven, who have been touched by her kindness and generosity.  

And I've been thinking about getting to 90, about weekends, vacations and practicing aloha on the weekdays that can become overwhelming. About closing my computer a little more often to find the sun, blue skies, sandy beaches, and peaceful mantra that attracted Peter's grandma to the shores of Hawaii over the years. 

About how mother / daughter time should be grounded most in a love of life and those in it, which in my case, just happens to include a love of my job at times. 

Lo.