Hello and welcome back to the Simplicity Diaries with me, Kim John Payne. We're continuing on with our reading of Emotionally Resilient Twins and Teens. I always add and children as well.
And this is our third in the series of readings of Sophie's story. Sophie's story is so revealing, isn't it, about the pace of life and how that was pressing in on her and causing her to be reactive and become a target of teasing. So today's part of the story just takes that a little bit further into her understanding and getting a counterpoint to this fast-paced life that she had been leading.
Dialing Things Back. Nana lives in a quiet winterized three-bedroom cottage just 20 minutes from Augusta in the heart of Maine. As we turned the final bend of the gravel road that led to her driveway, I spied the dark expanse of the Maricanacook Lake and instantly felt better.
The three days were a dream. Mum and I teamed up with Nana and Amanda and whipped up three different pies for Christmas dinner and I stayed up extra late on Christmas Eve helping Nana make and decorate two sheets of gingerbread cookies because cell phone service was so sketchy in our area and the TV so fuzzy Amanda couldn't disappear into a device or veg out in front of a screen. So she joined me, Mum, Nana and even Dad who took part after we finished chopping the wood for the crackling fire we were nursing.
We played Uno and Monopoly. Dad performed half a dozen card tricks he'd learned as an aspiring magician. Who knew? Way to go Dad! He even taught me one of them and the others were wrapping presents and I totally fooled Mum and Amanda when I performed the trick for them.
We were supposed to stay for three nights but when it came time to leave I just couldn't. I begged Mum to let me stay with Nana for the rest of the week. Dad and Amanda were adamant about getting back to Boston because Amanda had a two-day swim meet on December 29 and 30.
So, please, I said, please, please, Mum, let me stay. I pleaded. I promised to be on my best behaviour with Nana and clean and everything.
I just feel so much better and more relaxed with her. After a private talk with Nana, Mum and Dad agreed to let me stay for five more days. To be honest, I was kind of glad that Amanda was leaving.
We'd had a great time for the first two days. I felt like I got my sister back and my best friend back but early on the third day I figured out that if she bundled up and walked out to the end of Nana's dock and she figured this out, that if she positioned herself just so, all her texts, emails and messages came pouring in. Cell service in that one spot perched right above the frigid water in a tiny three-foot pocket of space was just good enough for her to send and receive messages, watch short videos and make a brief shaky call to her friends.
So for the rest of the day, Amanda shuttled back and forth, drinking hot chocolate and herbal tea during her indoor intervals to warm up and she just ignored me completely. Nana and I hugged Mum and Dad and Amanda and they hopped into our minivan and when everyone was gone, Nana turned to me. Now, I have you all to myself, she exclaimed, wrapping me up in a soft, cushy hug.
I'm so happy to be with you here, Nana, I replied. You sure you don't want to get too bored here with an ancient person like me? You're not ancient, Nana, you're awesome. Well, I feel the same way about you, my dearest Sophie, Nana replied and we walked back into her cosy home.
For the next four days, we baked, cooked, played cards and went for long walks in nature. I didn't feel bored once, not even for a second. In fact, I felt a whole lot better.
My stomach pains vanished, my sore throat, I'd been nursing when I'd arrived, had started to disappear and I slept like a log until nine or ten each morning and woke up full of enthusiasm and energy. But on the night before Mum was scheduled to pick me up, all that changed. I woke up at 5am in a cold sweat.
When I got my bearings, I realised Nana was by my side. Are you okay, Sophie, she asked worriedly. I tried to respond, but I couldn't make a sound.
That's okay, love, she said. You don't have to tell me a thing. My shoulders started to shake uncontrollably as tears poured down my cheeks.
I don't know why I'm crying, Nana, is all I could manage. I just cried and cried and cried. I'm so glad you came to stay with me, Sophie, said Nana after I'd settled down a bit.
She took me into a living room and sat me down on the sofa and covered me in a warm puffy duvet. She was a little more animated than normal. I'm going to make some warm chamomile tea, my love, she said, and she shuffled back into the kitchen.
By the time Nana returned, bearing two gigantic loon mugs brimming with piping hot tea, I'd calmed down quite a bit. I don't know what it is, Nana, I confided. I just haven't felt all that well since the beginning of sixth grade.
She smiled. Mmm. You did look a bit worn out when you arrived, she said.
I nodded. You look so much better now, she added, and patted my hand. I feel a lot better too, Nana, I replied.
There's something about being here with you on the lake and baking and cooking and just being makes me feel so much more me. Nana and I talked for an entire hour. I told her about school, piano and soccer, about tests, essays and all the prepping for my piano recital and how Amanda was never around and most days I ate alone with just Mum.
I even told Nana about my issues with Miranda and even Mrs. Brown. And I confess to feeling I didn't fit into the sixth grade social scene at all. I went a bit overboard, perhaps, but Nana, she's so easy to talk to.
I poured my heart out and she, well, she just listened. She didn't interrupt me once, all the way, the way Mum did. Mum would offer assurances and advice or kind of hollow compliments meant to make me feel better.
Nana just sat there. She really heard me. Then we hugged and cleared our mugs into the kitchen.
When we fried up about half a dozen apple maple sausages, scrambled five eggs and sat down to a breakfast feast that included giant slices of whole wheat toast covered with locally churned butter and wild blueberry jam. Nana, I said between eager mouthfuls. Yes, Sophie, she said, laughing good naturedly at my pigginess.
I had the scariest, wildest dream ever last night. Oh, is that why you woke up so suddenly? She asked. I think so.
Nana sensed my hesitation because she did not probe any further. Instead, she disappeared into a small crawlspace at the side of the side wall, halfway up the stairs in her bedroom, and came down with a dusty photograph album and a shoebox. I'd like to show you some old photos and tell you a bit about your grandpa and your mum when she was little.
We look through those grainy black and white photos of Grandpa building the house and posing in Europe in World War II when he was in an army unit. There were also pics of him and Nana sliding down Badger Hill with Mum and Uncle Tommy, Uncle Timmy, I beg your pardon, and skating on a completely frozen lake when Mum was just my age. Your mother was a happy outdoorsy girl, Nana said.
She loved singing and playing piano and jumping and running and skating. Why, when she was a girl, things were a whole lot different from they are now. We didn't play on teams that travelled to different towns every weekend, and she most certainly did not spend her summer in camps that trained her to be better at everything.
For one thing, we couldn't afford that. But more importantly, all she and your Uncle Timmy had to do was walk right out that door into the woods, or just jump into the lake when they were hot. They swam and fished and skated and skied and hiked and climbed right here with a dozen or so friends who lived around the lake or the town at the time.
I kind of wish I'd lived back in those days, Nana, I whispered. Things just get too pressured for me sometimes. Well, we'll have to play the hand that's dealt us, she said.
But that means that by no means justifies overloading your little life over scheduling is very much like, well, over eating. Both can can make you feel tired and give you indigestion. And your body and your mind seem to be sending you a clear message.
Nana was right. Being over scheduled and overwhelmed all the time had me worn down. And even if it looked to Sammy and Jennifer, my classmates, or my piano teacher that I was fine and in control, I'd actually been struggling to get through each and every day.
I felt so much better now, hundreds of miles away from my crazy life. I looked at Nana. She was so wise and kind.
I felt like I could tell her anything. Can I tell you about the dream I had last night? I asked. Oh, you can tell me anything you want, dear, she said.
My dream was was equal parts scary, and it didn't make a whole lot of sense. We were driving to a tournament in Connecticut. Only it wasn't me and mom, as it always was.
Oddly enough, dad was driving me. And we were listening to Beatles, dad's favorite band from what he called his salad days. And he was singing along.
He was happy and relaxed, not stressed about work or anything. Then suddenly, everything got blurry and shaky. And the car swerved in front of us.
And dad stepped on the brakes, and he turned hard to the left. I heard the tires screeching, and I felt us getting smashed from behind. Our van spun over the embankment and into a ravine.
I remember feeling like a pair of jeans spinning around a washing machine. We kept flipping over and over until finally, everything was still. And in the dream, the next thing I remember, I was lying in bed covered by a stiff white sheet, hearing machines beeping and mulled voices.
I looked to my left and saw my dad lying in bed. He was covered in bandages, and I could make out a grin and then a toothy smile. Hiya, Sophie, he said.
Hi, dad, I whispered. What? What happened? My body ached from my head to my toes. We were in a car accident.
Oh, yeah, I replied. The doctor says we should be discharged in about a week. Dad, I said.
Yes, Sophie. Promise you'll stay right here next to me no matter what. I'm not going anywhere.
I don't remember much else about that dream except that Mum and Amanda never visited us, which was kind of beyond weird. Dad and I talked and laughed for what seemed like forever, and we got better and took short walks together, hobbling up and down hospital halls on our crutches. Someone, I don't have a clue, gave us a pack of cards, and we played go fish and endless games of war.
Dad even taught me a few more of his card tricks. I don't remember much more of the dream except that everything got hazy, and then suddenly Dad was back in his hospital bed, hooked up to a machine and an IV drip, and he wasn't doing all that well. Well, that's when I woke up, kind of terrified.
All Nana said when I was finished was, wow, Sophie, that was quite a dream. She hugged me, and we sat quietly for a few minutes. Then she stood up.
Why don't we get bundled up and go for a walk along the ridge? And off we went. I later learned that Nana and Mum had talked about me for hours when she came to pick me up. Grandma pointed out things to my mum with a kind of honesty only a mother can impart directly to her daughter.
They agreed things had gotten too intense for me. You know, and they'd never so seemed to see me have to cope with anything like what I was coping with at my age. They just hadn't had to cope with it at their age at all.
I think things will be better for you now at school when you go back, Sophie, said Nana as she kissed me goodbye. When you're really tired and overworked, you get grumpy and you just want to be left alone, and it gets harder to let things slide or to laugh them off. Now you're rested and strong.
Things will look different, I promise. Well, my eyes filled with tears. Thank you for everything, Nana, I said.
You're the best grandma in the whole wide world. And so that's the reading of the third part of Sophie's story. Okay, and on to the fourth part in the next episode.
