The kaleidoscope of life
By Liz Biggs
Rotate the tube of a kaleidoscope, and the reflections of the mirrors and pieces of colored glass or paper produce changing patterns. For me, life is not a chronological timeline anymore. The older I get, the more my focus has shifted — the loving memories move to the front and the bad ones have faded away.
My father left us when I was young, and the only thing I vividly remember about him is that he didn’t like cucumbers. I remember being sad on Father’s Day and on the day our Catholic school had a father-daughter event. The other 363 days of the year, I was happy.
Luckily for me, my six siblings filled in for his absence. My earliest memories are of my sister, Susie, taking care of me like I was her baby. She was the one who changed my diaper, dressed me each day as my crib was in her room, and taught me how to swing — kick out, tuck under, which I wasn’t very good at, so I just begged her to push me every day. My sister, Ann, always made my birthdays special. One “May of the 13th” — that’s how I said it, they tell me — I woke up to a beautiful card she made with a drawing of a “porpoise with a purpose” and a giant porpoise beach float to wish me a happy day.
My mother had a chore chart for the seven of us; I cleaned windows and vacuumed. My brother, Stevie, was tasked with putting my little sister and me to bed. After he checked our homework and smelled our breath to make sure we brushed our teeth, he would entertain us with a “funny show”, making us giggle at his antics and beg for more so we could stay up later.
My sister, Patti, was the adventurous one and taught me how to ride a bike. I fell and skinned my knee on the first try, but her encouragement helped me learn how to get up and try again.
My brother, Johnny, has always been like a father to me. He was the one who walked me down the aisle at my wedding. I lived in his big walk-in closet after I graduated from college and needed to save enough money to afford the deposit for an apartment in Atlanta.
My little sister, Kate, is pretty much my best friend. She keeps me straight when I veer off the path. I tend to wander, want to make friends with everyone (including strangers in foreign countries), procrastinate and pack light. When I lead us down the wrong path (or to the wrong ship), she is the disciplined one who uses her Duolingo skills to communicate with the taxi driver. She is the one whose phone is not dead from taking too many pictures, the one who saved the phone number of our ship in her phone, and the one who purchased the international calling plan. She forces me to stop dilly-dallying and to meet her at the Y for core and kettlebell classes. Someday she will successfully talk me into waking up early enough to see a sunrise.
My mother graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in economics and a minor in psychology, then went to night school to earn her master’s degree as a therapist. She started and managed a Vietnamese group home for refugees in the 1970s, and one of them came to live with us. Despite her advanced education, times were a bit tough and we struggled financially. I got a work permit at age 15. While managing school, I worked at Taco Bell, babysat and mowed lawns (I was terrible at that job). In the summer, I lifeguarded six days a week, then waitressed and bartended to put myself through college. I bought my first car, an orange Gremlin with green racing stripes, for $500 with the babysitting money I made.
In my kaleidoscope, I don’t remember any hardship or shame. I have incredibly fond memories of my family and of all the people I met. I loved all those jobs (except the lawn-mowing). I learned valuable lessons along the way. Even the heartbreak of lost loves and failed relationships seems to fade away as the kaleidoscope rotates and only the good memories stay in focus. It is kind of like the pain of childbirth — I will spare you the details (3 of my 4 were over 9 pounds, ouch) — once your cute babies grow up to be kind, adventurous adults, the pain is long gone. What comes into focus are the loving memories like the silly memes and reels they send you, making you smile.
If life seems tough right now, filled with adversity and hardship, try to rotate that kaleidoscope tube. Focus on the good stuff, the fond memories, and maybe the hard days will start to fade away. If you doubt my advice, take it from the Russian writer Dostoyevsky who wrote that pain is important in life. Suffering is the inevitable and necessary cost of realizing what we all truly seek in life: love.
