SARAH DENAE

Late Summer Mornings

It’s that time of year again when the sun languidly rises, not as eager as it was in June, and I am up early enough to witness the low and long, bright and yellow beams reaching through all the trees out my east window.

The air is cooler, that little nip of fall. The memory of my first child’s birth hangs over these late summer mornings like a force come to tether me back to my purpose, to love. I have been worried. It’s a family trait I attempt to shake, but returns at moments in life that feel pivotal. I’m worried about my children’s future. Will they go to college? Will they like it? Will they feel loved and cared for by enough people? Will they remember what brings them joy and pursue more of it? 

A Mother’s Work is Never Done

I struggle a little to know how to help them at this phase. I know I could hug them more. I could make eye contact more. I could tell them I love them more. I could also become far too invasive in their journey. I know better. These lives are their own now, and my role is shifting rapidly. I’m the wolf mama, retreating backwards into the forest, watching my pups feed on their first solo kill–completely absorbed, eager to take what is theirs.

I know they will glance back at me. Those moments will be rare and condensed, like diamonds. I will have done my best for them. They know I love them more than anything and always will. 

“A mother’s work is never done.” Makes sense, and I think my work now is to learn how to live without my babies. They need a mom who wants them to roam freely–who trusts they will find their way, and reminds them–you will find your way. You will feel lost, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your way. Loss is like a heavier weight in the gym–for building stronger muscles. For the brave.

And if you are not brave, that just means it’s time to move on. You may be at a juncture, meaning you may need to turn to face a new direction. Pick up the weight or turn and move away. 

Hey little wolf, just because that rabbit looks tasty, doesn’t mean you are meant to catch it. The world offers infinite possibilities. Maybe rather than running after, or being afraid of, everything that moves, train to sense what feels most alive for you and simply pounce. 

The View is Different Now

Now, the sun has shifted, settling in where it seems most at home, higher above the world. The view is bigger, like the world has become for my children. They can see all the terrifying things. They see all the beautiful things. Their consciousness is almost formed, and they are free to choose their own way. 

They say to choose wisely. I say, learn your own heart. Only you can know what’s there on the surface and hidden in all the facets. Do listen to the howls of your pack–their heart songs reverberate with yours. And still, choose with your own heart. What sparks life in you? Avoid, if you can, anything that doesn’t.  

It Comes Down to Love

You are responsible only for you, and with that responsibility comes the core human need to love. It doesn’t matter who you love or what you love, as long as love is in the equation. Love isn’t a feeling, it’s an act. You are motivated by “the other” to love, and still, it’s all for you. Loving is being who you are at the core. It’s the ultimate expression of you. Love your planet, your people. Love your work, the mundane, the new and exciting. Most of all, love yourself. It’s what we all want most for you.

Off you go, little wolf pup. You know where to find me.