A Life Well Lived

Sophie had moved many times during her life: as a child, twice as a young adult, as a newlywed, and later as a new mother purchasing a forever home with her husband and young family. But there was no such thing as forever, and she was now making what would certainly be her final move. They called it an adult living community, with classes and activities and a cozy apartment that was clean and bright and perfect for one person. But it was attached to what they called a skilled nursing facility, and Sophie was keenly aware that this move was the first step toward losing her independence. 

She had argued that she could stay in the home where she had raised her family, the place she had lived for close to 50 years, but her children were afraid it was too much. Her treasured vegetable garden had gone to weeds the year after Ben passed on, and most of the rooms seemed to be frozen in the past. The days when children ran through the house, and later young grandchildren came for weekend visits, were long gone. There hadn’t been a holiday meal in the grand dining room in 10 years. Now all the gatherings and holiday dinners happened at her children’s homes. 

She knew they were right. It was time to move into a smaller place, a place that had services for people her age, but first Sophie needed to go through her precious belongings. She needed to divide them up among her kids and make the tough choices of what to give away or throw away. Her son and two daughters came by almost every weekend to help her sort through a lifetime of stuff, but today she was alone with her old boxes of photographs, the ones she had stashed in the back of the basement closet long ago. She made a cup of tea and then picked up the one marked “childhood years,” ready to let her mind wander back to simpler times. 

As she opened the box, Sophie saw familiar scenes from her early days. It’s true what they say. As you grow older, the memories from long ago become more vivid, and seeing her brother and sister, her parents, her childhood dog Elsie, and the Brooklyn home she grew up in felt comfortably familiar. She scanned each photo, knowing that she needed to pick a select few to put into an album she would bring to the new apartment. She had already chosen some current photos of her children and grandchildren, and several vacation photos she had taken with Ben. How could she pick just a handful of photos to embody all of the living and the loving, the sadness and the joy, of the past 80 years? She blew on her Twinings English Afternoon tea and nibbled on a few crackers, knowing that she couldn’t fight against time moving forward. Her days in her beloved home would come to an end whether she made her choices or not.

As she slowly sipped her tea, she came across a photo she hadn’t remembered. It was her at a country fair when she was about 8 years old. She was being held in the arms of her sister Millie, who would have been around 16 then. Millie was probably watching her while their parents shopped and visited with friends and neighbors. Her brother David, the middle child who had been a handful in his early teens, was likely also close by.  

It was strange to see evidence of a time when Millie was twice her age, practically an adult while Sophie had still been only a child. At 18, her sister had gone off to college across the country. After graduation, she had moved to London to marry the man she had met during her junior year at Oxford. The two sisters had lived across the ocean from each other for all these years. But they had formed a bond, a close friendship, through annual vacations, and family weddings and funerals, that added up to months or even years of time spent together. Her sister was now 88 and lived in a nursing facility outside of London, close to her own daughter. Sophie was still living in her hometown in New York and hadn’t seen her sister in over five years.

As she stared at the photo she remembered how she had always been the baby of the family. It felt like forever before she could overcome that label. Unlike her sister who left home and never looked back, Sophie had taken a long time to find her footing in life. She transferred colleges twice and had several failed relationships before she finally met and married Ben at age 27. That was old in those days, and when she had her first child at close to 30 and her subsequent children two and three years later, it felt like she would never catch up with her peers. Many of them had children already in grade school and middle school while she was still struggling with baby weight and breast feeding. 

After graduating college, she struggled to find where she belonged. She worked at a publishing company, a marketing firm, and then wrote for two different trade magazines before her first pregnancy gave her the excuse she needed to put her uncertain career aside for a while. She spent her years as a parent to her young children volunteering in their classrooms and the school library, a place where she felt safe among the tall stacks of books. She went back to school when her youngest was 10 and earned her library science degree. She spent the next 20 years amid those stacks of books. 

They were a respite from raising three children, but also from a world she had never quite grown into. In her mid 60’s, she felt restless and needed a change. She retired from the library and began volunteering on local political campaigns. She even worked part time for a state representative until the arthritis and her husband’s kidney cancer put a screeching halt to her new career. It was a good run, even if it was short. She knew she had played things too safe for most of her life.

For Sophie, everything had revolved around the security of her home and her community, her garden and her book group. Her world was small but the roots of it ran deep, which was why it was so hard to say goodbye, to pick and choose which of the thousands of memories she would keep tangible reminders of.

Millie, on the other hand, had led a much bolder life. She only had one child, and she divorced at 40, never looking back. She spent her life travelling and going to the theater, spending her evenings in Jazz clubs and Michelin starred restaurants in cities Sophie could only dream of visiting. Her life was filled with excitement and adventure. She had friends all over the world and could talk comfortably about so many subjects. 

Sophie looked again at the photo and then at the clock. It was only 7:30 PM in England, and she knew her sister would be back from dinner, probably watching TV in her room if she wasn’t at one of the many nursing home activities. Millie sang in the choir, which met a few times a week, and she was always going to the movies and lectures they offered in the common room. 

Sophie picked up her phone and dialed her sister. They had spoken a few weeks ago, but most of their conversations these days were on Sundays when they were both with their children. Everyone got on the phone and said hello and how are you, but nobody really talked. Sophie wanted to talk to Millie now, on a Monday afternoon, and why couldn’t she? She felt excitement as she heard the phone ringing an ocean away. 

“Hellllooo.” Her sister’s voice rang out. Sophie smiled. Her mother had always given that drawn out hello, and her sister did the same, in the same high-pitched voice.

“Millie, it’s Sophie --- everything is okay. I was just going through old photos, and I wanted to call and chat.”

“Family photos?” Millie said, her voice filled with joy and intrigue. “Oh, which ones? I haven’t been through those old photos in years.” She didn’t question why Sophie was calling on a Monday afternoon, but why would she? Sophie was the one who tended to live by rigid rules.

“The ones of us in the old house with mom and dad, and the dog.” Sophie laughed, and it felt good. “But I came across one that really struck me, and I wanted to tell you about it.”

“Is it the one during the snowstorm where David and I had to hold you because the snow was deeper than you were tall? Mom and dad were so nervous about letting you go out to play with us. They always protected you way more than us.”

“Yes they did. But there were pros and cons to being the baby,” Sophie said, feeling lighter than she’d felt in weeks. “I have that one somewhere, but no, this was one at a country fair. I’m probably about eight, and you’re holding me in your arms like you’re my mother.” Sophie went on to describe every detail of the photo, but her sister interrupted.

“Can you send it to me? I want to see it.”

“But it’s not a digital photo.” Sophie was trying to figure out how that would work.

“Just take a picture of it and send it to me. It doesn’t have to look perfect, but I’m dying to see it.”

My, the wonders of technology. Sophie took a photo of the photo and emailed it to her sister. A minute later, she heard her squeal. “Yes! I remember this day. You were so little then and you’re right, it looks like I’m your mother. I did kind of dress you up and play with you like you were my child back then. None of my friends had siblings eight years younger and you were like a toy to us.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” Sophie said, tears pooling in her eyes as she reflected on those days living in the secure world of her parents’ home

“So why are you going through old photos today?” Millie asked. “I thought you were sorting through your stuff on the weekends when the kids were around.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “I just needed to do this alone. They want me to take just one album to the new place, and just a small amount of my stuff. It’s so hard to choose.”

“Well, that’s silly,” my sister said, always the older and wiser one, the advisor and the mentor. “Take whatever you want, it’s your apartment. And the kids can store whatever you don’t have room for at their houses.”

“They’re storing a lot of furniture, so I didn’t want to burden them to take all my years of junk.”

“Sophie, you raised them and stored their stuff at your house for years. They can do the same for you,” Millie urged. “But I promise you, you won’t want to be looking back at old photos that often. They may feel important now, because you’re feeling sentimental about moving, but don’t worry so much about holding onto the stuff. Worry about holding onto the memories.” 

Sophie had always loved to write, but she had never been one to keep a diary. “Should I write down some of my favorite memories?”

“Yeah, write them down, and tell them to the grandkids every chance you get. And of course, save the photos, but Sophie, don’t feel like this move is an end. It’s just a new beginning of a life with less stuff, less responsibility,” her sister advised.  “You are still only 80. Practically a baby! You have a lot of living to do. Hey, so do I, and I’m pushing 90.” 

Sophie nodded, absorbing her wise words, remembering how her sister had guided and supported her as she grew up, raised children, and during in those tough years after they lost their mother.  She had always been there, despite the ocean between them. “Thank you, Millie.” 

“No need to thank me. And hey, you’ve had a great life, a long and successful marriage, and  heaven knows you’ve given so much of your time to helping others. You deserve to enjoy this new phase of life.”

“But I’m not like you. I don’t adjust well to change.”

“I know that, but you’ve been through many changes in your life, and you’ve come out of them fine. As soon as this new place is familiar, and you meet a few people, it will become home, and you’ll love it. I’m sure of that.”

Sophie had one more question, but it felt foolish. “It’s always felt like everyone envied you, because you travelled and explored the world and always had so many great stories to tell. Do you really think my life has been great, that my work and volunteering has made a difference?”

“Of course,” Millie said. “I’ve always envied your ability to be so community focused, and to raise three kids. I raised one, and I love her more than anything, but I can’t imagine how you raised three. And your kids all have their own families and great careers. My life was exciting and filled with experiences, and yeah, I may have good stories to tell, but your life has been extraordinary. Look at all you accomplished -- all the good you’ve done in the world.”

“Thank you, Millie. I really needed to hear that.”

“Yeah, call anytime and I’ll sing your praises. But hey, it’s almost 8:00 pm here and I’m going down to see this film about Africa that they’re showing in the common room. They’re going to explore a part of Africa I haven’t been to in years, not since that safari back in the 90s. I’ve gotta go but I love you.” They both said goodbye and blew kisses, and then the line disconnected.

Sophie looked back at the photo of that 8-year-old girl who was now an 80- year-old woman and that 16-year-old girl who was now pushing 90, realizing why it meant so much to her. She was still the baby of the family, in many ways still so unsure of herself. But she had faced life with grace, and she would do her best to face this next stage with courage and dignity. She would do it for herself and her sister, and for her children and grandchildren, who were everything to her. 

She kissed the faces of the two young girls in the photo. Then she pulled the next stack of photos out of the box, and relaxed into her chair, ready to continue reminiscing.