A Bittersweet Life Worth Living
From a magical dinner party at home to two months "on the road", I'm faced with a conundrum that I'm so grateful for.
The other night we hosted a dinner party at our house with two other families. We were connected to both of them in a serendipitous way — Marlee, Phil & Desi through a chance meeting at a playground, and Charlotte, Mark & Cully through our neighborhood community farm. Upon meeting Charlotte and exchanging numbers, I discovered that we had already been connected over text via Marlee. Making this connection IRL felt like kismet, and we quickly organized a get-together for later that week.
It was Friday night, so we typically do a Shabbat dinner as a family; we love including others in this weekly ceremony of celebrating the ending of the work week and settling into a cadence of pure togetherness without technology as a distraction.
We agreed ahead of time to have each family prepare a part of the dinner; Charlie cooked his killer chicken recipe; Charlotte brought one of her delicious salads; Marlee prepared some freshly harvested vegetables from Phil’s farm and surprised us all with some kid-friendly desserts.
After everyone arrived, we settled into the space together, some of us meeting for the very first time. The three toddlers gathered in the living room and the backyard, curious about one another and engaging in toddler play.
When it was time to eat, we each served ourselves around the kitchen island, buffet style, before finding a seat around the table which we had crowded nine chairs around to accommodate the three families.
While the adults engaged in conversations — reenacting birth stories, sharing about how we each met — the kids, eager to jump down from the dinner table, ran around the living room and played.
The energy was grounded, down to earth, wholesome and genuine.
It felt like childhood, family, and friendship.
The night carried on much past our normal bedtime, as we shifted from the dining table to the patio furniture outside. Well past the sun setting, we continued our conversations, the kids still happily floating between playing with one another and finding an adult to cuddle up against.
When it was time to say goodbye, there was a shared sense of “let’s do it again”. The following day I received similar sentiments from everyone via text (with a new group chat formed).
I continued to bask in the glow of this evening all throughout the following day, finding my mood uplifted because of it.
Truth be told, I had been hungry for a gathering like this for so long. It was truly something of my dreams.
To be together, enjoying a meal that was collaboratively made, children exploring and playing in the safety of their parent’s energetic nest. The seeds of relationships to grow, to depend on through whatever life brings us next. To feel the ease of a shared mindset, and our ability to collectively parent within this.
As I’m writing this now, we’re gearing up to leave for 60 days on some travel to the East Coast and then Europe. The itch for adventure that has been such a strong part of my relationship with Charlie from the beginning is now tempered with the desire to root, to be of a place, to have people and a home that we are connected to. The thought of saying goodbye to these relationships and friendships that are forming comes with some sadness. I want to keep investing in that relationship garden, and am looking forward to seeing what grows next.
But also - I know that our travels will bring us to other relationships that matter to us, too; family and friends that live in different states; celebrations to be had overseas; perhaps new people we’ll meet and become connected with along the way. I hold both of these things to be true at the same time - the desire to be rooted in my neighborhood, while also being a part of the larger world beyond my immediate zipcode.
This is the first time in a long time where I’m taking such a trip and feel this level of sadness; usually the desire to travel overpowers any sense of wanting to remain where I am. Maybe it’s now living life as a mother to two; maybe it’s just the season we are in, or maybe it’s the realization from 2.5 years of parenting and hosting This Is How We Care that our community is really everything. And while we certainly can nourish that community all over the world through traveling to places where our loved ones are, there is also a unique and special element to the community that lives where you live; the place where you return to and unpack your bags at the end of a long journey.
Reflecting on this internal conundrum I find myself in, gratitude is rising alongside the mixed feelings of sadness and excitement. Gratitude for the ability to cultivate such a life, to have met people that I care about so deeply so quickly, for a home base that we want to return to, and the privilege to be able to travel to new places for extended periods of time. I suppose any life worth living always has the taste of the bittersweet; I feel this when I look at my children rapidly growing before my eyes, or hold my husband’s hand and feel into a future where we’ll continue aging together. It’s love and grief, joy and sadness all wrapped into one. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I look forward to seeing what this next chapter of travel brings, in the form of realizations and new perspectives, and what we bring back home with us when the time to return comes.
I’ll leave you with these questions, which I’m sitting with myself:
What is bittersweet in your own life?
What can you love so deeply, tend to with such care, that it hurts your heart a little when its time to let it go?
In this together,
Emily