Doors are Opening
Our house was built in the seventies, and it definitely shows its age in different ways. My husband works tirelessly to keep it functioning for the five of us. He can add plumber, carpenter, house sider, landscaper, drywaller, and appliance installer to his resume for sure. And no matter how hard he works, it feels like the repairs will never be done.
One thing I never want him to fix would be the door squeaks from my children’s rooms. The boys’ room that they’ve shared since their sister made her entrance has a distinctly different pitch than the lighter squeak of her door. The noises these doors make when opening have meant different things for me as a mother throughout the years.
When they were little
When the kids were toddlers, the door squeaks would wake me in the morning (and sometimes in the middle of the night) alerting me to the needs of my new walkers. It meant my day was starting whether I was ready for it or not. It meant breakfast must begin and I would hit the ground running–maybe stumbling depending on the hour–to get the kids whatever they needed.
A little older
As they grew and began to sleep later than I did, the door squeaks would still alert me. The noises would mean we were about to get ready for a youth basketball or football game, that my growing sons and daughter would need french toast sticks for breakfast, or they were already requesting playdates and zoo adventures.
This Saturday morning
This morning when my boys’ door squeaked notifying me of their movement upstairs, my oldest child didn’t descend the stairs right away. I waited for him to come down, but instead, I heard the shower start. It was then that I remembered, today was the first day of his first job. He was up early on a Saturday because the beginning of his work life was here.
I had a moment of nostalgia thinking about how the meaning of this sound has changed. Today, the squeak doesn’t mean the same thing it used to. There is nothing for me to do because he wants to make his own breakfast. I can continue to drink my coffee at home because he will drive himself to orientation.
The Passage of Time
The door squeak that used to precede toddler footsteps, tiny voices, and belly giggles still alerts me to signs of life from my children. It also allows me a moment of pause as I’m torn between appreciating the freedom of having older kids, and wishing we could turn back time.
If the door squeaks at your house still require you to wake before you’re ready and force you to hit the ground running with your parent duties, in no time, you’ll be drinking your warm coffee and sending them off to their first job. It comes as fast as little toddler feet run, so cherish it.
A new door opens
Today, I can’t wait for my oldest’s employers to meet him. As I send him out into the world, the doors he’s about to open are a little bigger, and even if they are mostly silent, as his mom, I can still hear the sound of him making his way into this world.