The Juggle

February 3, 2022

How do you even find the time to read this column? I am in awe of you.

I know: Everyone wants a piece of you. The clock needs to be punched and the emails demand an answer, but the budding athlete still needs to be hauled from practice to scrimmage. The dog needs to be walked, the tax documents must be submitted... yet those young people ask you what's for dinner, every. single. night. And although you never really know in advance what's for dinner every single night, somehow everyone gets fed. I am in awe of you.

I see you stretching time, compressing time, fitting in another crucial task that you think you can't, and yet you do. There is too much homework requiring review, too many laundry cycles piling up on the floor, too many meetings looming that might be in-person or might be remote, you're not sure. Seemingly by the day, the school rules change, local ordinances reverse, medical advice gets turned on its head. The young people in your orbit turn to you, confused. You're confused, too.

And yet somehow, the registration forms get pushed to the right administrators and the groceries get bought and the table gets set. And then those young people want to eat, again, so you feed them, again. Somehow, they get (mostly) educated and they wear (mostly) clean clothes. And then, even amidst all the worrying and precautions, they get sick, or they don't, and you manage. You keep them oriented toward a bright and happy future where they do work that makes the world better, like what you're doing today. Each day is a succession of minor miracles performed by the juggler who is you.

And in between those tiny works of greatness, you stretch time, again, to open this newsletter to check out what's happening, to see what your community is offering to make your family's lives richer. I am—quite properly—in awe of you.

—Deb