Silly self

Seeing a friend today made me so, so sad. I didn’t hug her; I didn’t touch her. I kept my distance and could only call out to her.

It’s easy to pretend I don’t miss what I don’t see. But it is impossible to deny when I see her smile.

I miss having fun with my friends.

Now, now: I am not sad all day. Don’t worry. My kids make me laugh a lot, and my husband knows how to get me to smile. There is a lot of joy in the Collett home right now.

I am many. I am a mom. I am a wife. I am a leader. A soccer coach. A theater director. An editor. A reader. A singer. A volunteer. A Christian. A social organizer. A dedicated friend. An open book.

And I’m also a silly and random and ridiculous woman.

Me right now though? Right now, there are so many Mimis that just can’t be. They’re sitting on the shelf; they’re locked in their rooms. There is no space for them, no role to fill on this current world stage.

So many Mimis are stripped away. Who is left? A woman. A mom who is struggling to be a substitute teacher. I’m trying to replace the large team of teachers who nurture and educate my four children. This is nothing like a holiday from school, where I choose what we do and what we learn and how we spend our time. Because this is not a holiday. This is the world in turmoil, yet my kids still need to learn.

And I can’t make myself be silly. My friends see my silly side. My kids only catch glimpses; she comes out on vacations. It takes a lot for me to feel relaxed enough to release my ridiculous side, and that’s hard to do when there is so much responsibility on my shoulders in molding these children I claim as mine.

I do not mean that I’m not fun. I’m a very cool mom. I let them have friends over, and I throw them unusual parties. I let them rollerblade inside the house and be in charge of their own fingernail polish. I’ll usually say yes if they ask for ice cream, and if they ask me to play Settlers, Othello, Rummikube, or Spot It, then I’m always game. I let them use all the tape and all the glue and all the paper. I let them build and create and climb. I’m so fun.

But I’m not silly.

My mom knew how to be silly with her children. It is one her talents. It is not a skill I inherited.

So do you understand what I mean when I say that I miss my friends?

And that I miss who I am when I’m with my girlfriends?

I wouldn’t trade in the titles of mom and wife—those roles that are emphasized during a worldwide quarantine.

But my life is richer with friends.

A room no longer full of you