Are we there yet?

“Are we there yet?” My son asked the question before we turned off our street. “Can we start the movie?”

  

“A good rule of thumb,” I told him, “is that if you can still see our house, you can probably safely assume we have not arrived at our destination.”

Our destination, a state park we planned to spend the day hiking through, was not all that I imagined. Visions of skipping children and flowing waterfalls disintegrated into a stark reality of skinned knees, dry creek beds, and perilous trails.

Our youngest daughter perched on a rock with tears in her eyes since she could not keep up with our older kids and wailed, “I want to be bigger.”

We are all longing to arrive somewhere other than here. “Are we there yet?” “I want to be bigger.” The words of children mirror those of my adult friends. A college graduate trapped in the purgatory between school and adulthood waits for her life to start. A young man eagerly anticipates a future with a career that is more rewarding than his current job and provides more appreciation and fulfillment. A young couple yearn for a stable family and home. And those are just conversations I’ve had this week.

Once we achieve those things, we pile on more expectations, expanding our conditions for contentment. We will be happy when… When my boyfriend commits to me. When I buy a house. When we have kids. When we save enough money. When the bills are paid. When my new job comes through. When our children are out of diapers. When this project is finished. When the children are out of school.

Is contentment possible to reach? Is it found in the attainment of our goals or in the process of achievement in itself? Is it possible to actually appreciate something in the moment it happens or can it only be appreciated through the distance and filter of time? Is this the direction my life was meant to travel? Am I there yet? Or do I simply entertain myself, turn on the movie like my son in the car, and assume that someone will transport me to my destination?

I’ve spent the past year exploring myself outside of my family. I’ve been defined by my children and husband for so long that at times I’ve lost myself altogether. This year has validated me; it reminded me that I do have talent and worth outside of laundry and grocery shopping. Now I strive for balance, to maintain my sense of self, to support my children without living through them, and to love my husband without leaning on him.

Every day I struggle to appreciate what I have – my complaining children, my pile of bills, my overworked husband – while reinforcing and prioritizing myself. But today, for right now, I’m appreciative. I may not be there yet, but I’m within sight of my home. No one transported me to this location; I traveled a dark, solitary road to arrive here. But, I no longer yearn to visit elsewhere. I finally know where I belong.