I’ve made peace with the fact that we reached our point of no return years ago. And I’m still learning to love change; to be excited by it. The human condition craves stability while change is the soul’s GPS.

 

As long as you are breathing, the intricate balance of body, mind and soul is the tripartite alliance required to navigate the triumph and tribulation of this thing we call life.

 

There are days when the joys of parenting are sparse and days, like today, when my heart overflows with gratitude for the privilege. The truth is that parenting, regardless of when or how you were conferred the title of mommy or daddy or parent, provides the same opportunity for growth and healing.

 

In Shefali Tsabary’s The Conscious Parent she explicitly demystifies Khalil Gibran’s infamous quote “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They came through you but not from you and though they are with you they belong not to you”.

 

They are appendages to our spiritual journey and most importantly, are never meant to conform to our beliefs or aspirations.

 

Simply, children are souls on their own journey. We’re merely entrusted to provide love, guidance, protection and all the other essentials for survival. They are appendages to our spiritual journey and most importantly, are never meant to conform to our beliefs or aspirations.  

 

That can be a hard ask. When you first held your son or daughter, your upbringing and ingrained societal expectations automatically flood over this precious newborn. We have very specific parameters for success that have everything to do with us and nothing to do with the needs and aspirations of the soul that’s chosen to pass through us.

 

As they grow and develop into their own unique personalities and prepare for life beyond us, they hold a magnifying mirror to spotlight parts of ourselves that are often buried so deep, we’re oblivious of the need for this healing.

 

That ‘bad luck’ is merely unconsciousness.

 

This unconsciousness creates strife and pain over generations that is sometimes described as a ‘generational curse’.  Sins of the father. That ‘bad luck’ is merely unconsciousness.

 

So, what am I comfortable about never going back to ‘when COVID-19 is over’? Some of it centres around parenting. And in the spirit of embracing change and transformation, I relish my constitutional right to change my mind at any time. Without explanation.

 

The biggest surprise for me is around my feeling towards the concept of school as we’ve known it. After I was able to claw my way up from the KO during the first round of home school in March 2020, I’m starting to see the value in home education. Yes, it can pack a punch but once you flex your muscle and get into rhythm, it has some appeal.  At least for me. Mr. T is not convinced.

 

Hybrid models, at the very least, must become the norm.

 

When I grew up, home schooling was reserved for the rich and famous. What a privilege that it’s now accessible to all. I hope that there’s some research house either doing or planning to do a study on the status of home schooling in South Africa. This is something that we need to explore more fully. Hybrid models, at the very least, must become the norm.

 

I’m also taken by how the school run, particularly the afternoon pick-up, has become such a chore. Where, at the beginning, it was such a lovely interlude during my day; a welcome pause moment to fetch, first M and then later, both kids.

 

We ventured into the big league in 2016 – paying school fees is not for the uncommitted – and since then, all schools have been within a 10km radius, so I can’t even blame sitting in traffic or distance.

 

Perhaps it’s the lack of socialising with my fave fellow parents at school these days; how I miss the chats on campus and the early morning coffees after drop-off at the shopping centre next door.

 

Perhaps it’s that I’m openly averse to crowds now. I tolerated them previously, went with the flow but was never really a fan. Any more than 10 people in my space at one time is borderline uncomfortable; more than 20 is claustrophobic. I’m truly Flo’s child; I learned about claustrophobia as a young child as that was just one of her fears.

 

So, it stands to reason that I want social distancing to remain. Forever. The floor stickers indicating what’s an acceptable distance in stores, banks, airports, and any public spaces can become our forever normal. Airplanes that pack people in rows and rows like sardines in a tin need an overhaul. And I’m comfortable wearing my mask in public spaces, especially in hospitals and clinics.

 

There’s just one thing that I want to return.

 

There’s just one thing that I want to return. Hugs. Lots of them. In our home, hugs make everything better. Definitely no hugs for all and sundry. Only for those near and dear to our hearts. And the vaccinated.

 

It’s been so awkward – on the rare occasions that we’ve been in company – when all you want to do is rush in for a big, long hug and there’s that hesitance.

 

We’re never going back but we’re stronger, more resilient than ever. Could 2022 be our twenty-twenty new?