Today’s post is an essay I wrote during a recent writing workshop.  The prompt was “In 500 words write about a time that you were given a second chance.”  It was an interesting exercise, and elicited some forgotten memories.

Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans — John Lennon

I always wanted to be a mother. When our first child was born after five years of marriage, her father and I agreed that I would stay home with our daughter. I would return to teacher training after she entered school.

My husband, an amateur astronomer, dreamed of traveling to West Africa to view a solar eclipse. Now at home all day, I took on the planning of that rather daunting trip. Spurred on by his wistful “Wouldn’t it be great to watch the eclipse from Timbuktu?” I studied the atlas. Carrying our daughter in a corduroy carrier, I spent hours at the public library researching routes, bus, train and hired car options, and writing letters. I learned it was impossible to get to Timbuktu safely and in a timely manner, so we ended up photographing the eclipse from the deck of a ship anchored off the coast of Mauritania. Our seven month old daughter was the only child on board, and she was very much part of the adventure.

After returning to California we discovered that I had to return to school. The credentialing laws had changed and would eliminate my major from the approved list.  My full-time mothering ended after a mere 10 months.  A year later I was hit by a runaway car and spent many months in recovery. Our daughter was cared for by my mother and a collection of friends while I healed.

Before the accident, we had moved to the country, and once I could walk again it fell to me to visit city and state offices one at a time (no Internet yet) to apply for the permits needed to put in water, power, telephone, roads, and structures. Our daughter and I spent hours waiting in line, me studying codes while she played with her doll.  At the farm, tending the garden, feeding and mucking out rabbits, chickens, and goats and milking twice a day took several hours each day, and she became good at entertaining herself while I did the chores.

You get the idea. One thing after another kept me from spending time with her, and soon it was a little brother.  Although I didn’t work away from home, there was a book contract, then a newspaper column, and a natural food store.  Eventually there were two more children, a full time job, car pools, soccer practice, dance lessons, and preparing meals for six. Life got in the way of my plans. Before I knew it, they all went off to college, and I was home, alone.

Who Knew? A Second Chance to Get it Right . . .

Being a grandmother, I have discovered, is my second chance. When I am with a grandchild, I clear my calendar, turn off my phone, and fully engage in the moment.  It’s a complete reset.  This time around I watch with wonder and joy at each developmental milestone. I love seeing each child grow and learn, and watching her parents grow into parenthood as they do so. Because being a grandmother, I have discovered, also provides me with a second chance to spend quality time with my own children. And this time, I’m paying attention.