New Normal

True Biz by Sara Novic offers a glimpse into deaf culture at the River Valley School, and a glimpse into the lives of three characters whose lives have been shaped by it. The quotation below, near the beginning of the book, shaped the way I read the rest of the book, and has lingered in my mind ever since. 

“It is so…depressing, February said as she pushed through the door. That the biggest dream some people can muster up for their child is ‘look normal.’”  –True Biz by Sara Novic

I’m on my couch, stretched out in my jeans and Cubs tee, listening to my washing machine work and my husband play a video game. The couch is new, and we rearranged our living room to accommodate it. I’m still struggling to adjust to the different layout, and I definitely miss being able to see out the French doors from my current position.

The day is gorgeous, with the temperature in the low 70s, something we wished for more over our cold, wet spring break, but we will take it whenever we get it. I’ve been out shopping with my sister, and we bought iced white mochas to drink while we shopped. I think every shopping trip, no matter how short, should begin with a fun drink. It makes even a chore feel like a treat.

The thing is, this day is lovely, and it has felt normal. In and out of stores in the middle of a busy Saturday. Laughing with my sister and listening to her stories. In a way, that return to normal has felt sweet. In another, it feels a little creaky. Why is it so loud? Why are there so many people? 

I feel like the return to normal is a return to rushing, a return to being busy. I just finished a week that was so much fun, but I was out later than I wanted to be three out of five nights, and last night when I got home, all I could really do was crash on the couch. We ran out of groceries and there was no time to buy more. We ate fast food too often. I didn’t cook all week long.

This kind of normal is not how I want to live.

When I read the quote from True Biz above, I was stopped cold. How much time have I spent trying to look and feel and live in the way I think is normal? How much time have I spent worrying about my kids, trying to encourage their unique interests and abilities while providing what I think are normal experiences and activities? 

Normal is not all it’s cracked up to be.

This afternoon, my sister and I shopped for Easter candy and drank iced white mochas and laughed at our own silly jokes and bought Among Us toys and a weird whistle for my kids. Both of us had our hair in dirty ponytails, and we didn’t worry about how we looked; we just enjoyed being together. I came home to a guy in sweatpants who had been writing a column on college football and was de-stressing with a video basketball game, and two kids making up jokes in one of their bedrooms, stuff scattered all over the floor. I lay on the couch and when I missed the view I used to have, I stared at the empty wall that is now in my line of eyesight and daydreamed about what I might hang to fill it. I can see the way this room might look when I get done changing it–not tired, not bland, but full of personality and family. Expansive and welcoming. A place where everyone now has a comfortable place to sit, instead of just whoever got there first. I thought about how to let the upcoming week smooth into rhythms of work and rest, instead of letting myself be consumed by constant going.

I get stuck in normal because normal feels safe. But life is not safe, and there is a whole world of excitement and beauty out there if we can let go of normal, no matter how small the ways we begin.