I loved Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt as a kid and it’s possible I love it even more now.
“Don’t be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life.
You don’t have to live forever, you just have to live.”
I am in a season of lasts.
All three of my children are in high school and every time I turn around, we are doing something for the last time. Last night was the last time I will sit in the high school field house and listen to my middle child play his trombone during the bi-annual Band-O-Rama concert. Tonight, my other son will participate as a senior in the German Honor Society induction ceremony. Even though he has a part in the ceremony, he told me it was no big deal and he doesn’t want me to come. I remember when he was inducted into the German Honor Society; how does he not realize what a big deal this is to me?
My three children are 32 months apart. Many of their infant and toddler firsts overlapped and kind of ran together. I honestly tried to keep things straight, but (in the understatement of the century), I was a little sleep deprived. The one thing that I learned back then is that as momentous as the firsts are, you never realize when it’s the last. The last time your toddler climbs in with you at night to cuddle. The last diaper change because they finally figured out potty training or got sick of diapers or really, really wanted that toy you promised them. The last time you had to desperately find the binky because suddenly they were big and binkies were for babies…
I blinked and they were big and my oldest was headed to school.
And then I blinked again and my youngest was headed to school, too.
The middle years are kind of a blur of music, scouts, sports, and carpools. I have loved watching my kids grow into people that they are now. There have been bumps in the road. Little bumps where a Bandaid and some Neosporin fixed things, and big bumps where only tears and time took care of things. As we prepare for my oldest to graduate and go to college, I find myself being very introspective.
If I could have stopped them at any age, would I? I have always said that the current stage is my favorite, though I might be lying when I say that about the teenage years. And of course, their teen years make me reflect back on mine. Would I have stopped myself? Is there any age I enjoyed so much I would go back and stay?
One of my favorite books as a child was Tuck Everlasting and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately as I see my kids for the adult (according to the age on his driver’s license) and near adults that they are. If you never read the book, you totally missed out and you should go back and read it, but I’m totally going to spoil it for you and talk about the ending because it broke my heart.
From Goodreads
“Doomed to – or blessed with – eternal life after drinking from a magic spring, the Tuck family wanders about trying to live as inconspicuously and comfortably as they can. When ten-year-old Winnie Foster stumbles on their secret, the Tucks take her home and explain why living forever at one age is less a blessing that it might seem.”
The main character of the book, Winnie, develops a friendship with the Tuck’s 17 year-old son, Jesse. Many things happen during the book; it’s a great book, and in the end, Jesse offers Winnie some of the water to drink when she turns 17. Winnie tells Jesse she isn’t sure about drinking it, but it’s okay because she’s got time. I desperately wanted Winnie to drink the water and stay with Jesse.
“So,” said Tuck to himself. “Two years. She’s been gone two years.” He stood up and looked around, embarrassed, trying to clear the lump from his throat. But there was no one to see him. The cemetery was very quiet. In the branches of a willow behind him, a red-winged blackbird chirped. Tuck wiped his eyes hastily. Then he straightened his jacket again and drew up his hand in a brief salute. “Good girl,” he said aloud. And then he turned and left the cemetery, walking quickly.
Later, as he and Mae rolled out of Treegap, Mae said softly, without looking at him, “She’s gone?”
Tuck nodded. “She’s gone,” he answered.
There was a long moment of silence between them, and then Mae said, “Poor Jesse.”
“He knowed it, though,” said Tuck. “At least, he knowed she wasn’t coming. We all knowed that, long time ago.”
“Just the same,” said Mae. She sighed. And then she sat up a little straighter. “Well, where to now, Tuck? No need to come back here no more.”
Back when I was a kid, we didn’t call it an ugly cry, but that’s how I felt. I wanted her to stay young. I wanted her to stay with Jesse.
I don’t necessarily want my kids to stay young. I’m excited for them, especially my oldest as he gets ready to leave and really live his own life. I’m nervous and scared for him, too. He thinks he’s had bumps in the road and he thinks he understands what it means to be hurt or scared. If I could keep him young so he never experiences real hurt or real fear then maybe I would wish for a magic spring. I would have had him drink it when he was younger, though. He’s waaaaay too much like me as a teen and we butt heads a lot more than we did when he was younger. He’s so smart and fun and has such a wicked sense of humor now, though…
“But dying’s part of the wheel, right there next to being born. You can’t pick out the pieces you like and leave the rest. Being part of the whole thing, that’s the blessing.”
I know I can’t pick out just the good parts for my kids, and I knew back then that I couldn’t pick out just the good parts for myself. I guess even back then I knew that’s what Natalie Babbitt was trying to teach me but I didn’t care. When I was talking to my kids about this book, not one of them has read it. I cannot believe they all made it to high school and I didn’t force any of them to read it. I still have 4 months for one, one year and 4 months, and I’m-not-going-to-think-about-how-long for my baby girl to force this classic upon them.
