Growing up, we had a number of family traditions that my mom slowly imparted to us. A registered nurse long before they taught nurses child psychology, I’ve become convinced that this woman was a master at it. She knew kids needed routines and structure, fairness and honesty, kindness and a measure of tough love when needed. And she knew we needed traditions.
There were many traditions my mom passed down to us. I personally credit her with both my home cleaning and canning obsessions. Mom loved to preserve food. She also taught us the tradition of blackberry picking in late summer, of making your own applesauce each fall and have a good, appealing dinner the night of Halloween. (She got it – the meal had to be enticing for kids who were too fired up for trick-or-treating and would declare they were “not hungry” only to eat a bellyful of candy later.)
Another tradition Mom taught us? Jigsaw puzzles.
Now, before I learned to live with the seasons, Mom taught us to live with the seasons. In summer, you played outside until the street lights came on. Then, you had exactly two minutes to get your backside in the house. In fall, we had five huge maple trees in our side yard and they accounted for weeks of fun as the leaves fell. One of my highschool friends noted recently that my Mom waited for them to get pretty ratty and slimy/wet before she actually disposed of them. She understood how much fun they were for us. The jigsaw puzzle, though? That was a fall/winter activity. Just about when we were getting bored and it was too cold and not enough snow yet to play outside, Mom would descend the stairs with a jigsaw puzzle from her closet. The fun could begin again.
To this day, I find something so peaceful and introspective about doing jigsaw puzzles. In a not-so-weird way, it feels like coming home. Unfortunately, between professional obligations and renovation projects, the days of doing jigsaw puzzles were held at bay for years. There just wasn’t time for any kind of leisure pursuits. I didn’t read books for fun or do a jigsaw puzzle because the work simply wasn’t done.
Yesterday, I got out a jigsaw puzzle. It’s a Charlie Brown fall looking puzzle of 1,000 pieces and, man, it hit all of the sweet spots. First, I love Charlie Brown. If I could get away with it, I’d have Charlie Brown sheets from Pottery Barn (but my husband would choke). Still, there is just something so wonderful and nostalgic about Charlie Brown that it checks all of my boxes. Second? This baby is 1,000 pieces. Nothing says “retired” to me like a 1,000-piece puzzle. Let’s face it. Even when I had the time to do a jigsaw puzzle in the last few years, it was only ever 500 pieces. Double that size? Not a commitment I could make.
Yet here I was yesterday working a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. I carefully flipped over every piece and spread them out, searching for border pieces first. Then, I worked on assembling the border. Next? I got one of the characters put together – Sally. Today, I’ll give myself an hour or so to work on it again. And all the while, I’ll think of Mom, my sisters and me working on a jigsaw puzzle after school before Dad got home from work. I’ll think about those traditions of fall that I love including Charlie Brown, falling eaves and football games. I’ll make myself a cup of hot cider and I’ll not notice when my pulse or breathing slows, but it will.
The jigsaw puzzle has unknowingly become symbolic of so many things in my life. It ties me to my past and as I age, the memories of a well-spent childhood are so endearing to me. It links me to my future and ensuring that I retain my cognitive skills. Most of all, it anchors me to my present and to living a new lifestyle where there is time to celebrate traditions, make new ones and settle into a more pastoral life.
