Have you ever had something happen in your life that was so impactful, so profound, so jarring, that you weren’t sure how you were going to overcome it?
Recently, I had an experience (maybe you’ve had the same one) that came without warning (or so I thought, but maybe it had been looming for months or years, yet I couldn’t come to grips with it). When it hit, it shocked me to my core, making me reconsider so many things about my life to this point. I’m certainly not the first to suffer such massive change, and I’m sure I won’t be the last.
It rocked me when Joanie suggested we move what we’d been storing on top of our refrigerator into a CABINET.
I’ll let that settle in, and my apologies it’s bringing up memories from your own life.
For years, more than I can remember (probably pre-Internet and Netflix), the top of the refrigerator had ALWAYS been home to the Haznaws’ snack chips and pretzels. It was a constant; something we could count on every time we needed a salty fix. But Saturday, after returning home from some errands (and apparently some clandestine plotting and planning), Joanie made an announcement, phrased as a question: “Since we have some room in the cabinets, what would you think about moving what’s on top of the fridge into one of them?”
The words hit me like a freight train, and a million thoughts immediately raced through my mind. “How will I adapt to this? Will I adapt to this? What does it mean for our family? What will the kids think when they visit? Is this decision simply a gateway–a greasing of the wheels–for additional, more profound organizational tactics?”
As these (and many, many more) questions and concerns bounced around in my head, on the outside I was as cool as a cucumber (which until that point, I was confident could still be found in the crisper drawer, but with these new developments, who knows?).
“Oh,” I said casually, nonplussed by her outlandish suggestion. “That sounds … fantastic.” I smiled a weak smile and opened my eyes wide to try and look excited. Meanwhile, my stomach was churning, and I could feel a knot forming in my throat.
Moments later, as I sat on the couch, trying to take deep, cleansing breaths without much success, bags and containers rattled and crackled as Joanie relocated our snacks into a secure, shuttered location across the kitchen.
Within seconds, our chips and pretzels had a new permanent home, and our refrigerator top was clean as a whistle, now baring that small, inconvenient cabinet no one really knows what to do with. (I would submit that one of the greatest benefits of storing snacks on top of the fridge was that it allowed us to forget about that useless cabinet … but I digress.)
It's been 36 hours since the “incident,” and I must admit I’m having trouble coming to grips that the top of our fridge is now an “empty nester.” But each time I pass, I feel like the anxiety, grief and sheer loss I initially felt is slowly beginning to wane.
Over time, I’m sure everything we’ll be OK as we all (myself, Joanie, the kids and even guests that sometimes visit) will adjust to our “new normal” … our new way forward … a home with a clean refrigerator top, and snacks in the cupboard. (I honestly never thought we were that type of family).
We haven’t told the kids yet, and frankly, I’m not sure the best way to break the news to them. It seems like a phone call or text would be too impersonal. Maybe Joanie and I should sit down and discuss how we’re going to have that conversation with them, and let
them know that we arrived at our decision together and with the best interests of all in mind.
But they’re young, and I’m sure they’ll adapt.
Anyway, I didn’t mean to burden you all with our challenges. In the end, change is often good; at least it requires self-reflection and hopefully, leads to growth. But I have to admit, this one … this one is going to take a while for me.
© 2024 David R. Haznaw