The Space Between: Two Things Can Be True
The Beauty of the In-Between
August is a season of quiet preparation. As we stand in the warmth of late summer, we are already sensing the subtle shift toward what comes next. I believe these transitions are not just hurdles, but meaningful spaces for growth.
When two things can be true.
Some transitions catch us by surprise—not because we didn’t know they were coming, but because we didn’t know how they would feel.
Yesterday was the first day of school for my children. My daughter started high school, my son started middle school, and for the first time, they headed to different buildings.
The morning began with joy and the familiar rush of trying to get everyone out the door. We laughed, played music, and ate breakfast together. Then, in the middle of it all, my son stopped what he was doing and hugged his sister.
She and I exchanged surprised glances—and then he began to cry.
It was a tender and unexpected moment between two siblings who usually give the impression that they would rather not be in the same room. Beneath the teasing, arguing, and carefully maintained indifference was the realization that something was changing for them, too.
After dropping them off at their respective schools, I returned to my home office. For weeks, I had talked about how excited I was to have a quiet, balanced workday without interruptions. But when I finally had the quiet I had been waiting for, it hurt.
No one was asking about the plan for the day, complaining that there was “nothing to eat” in a house full of food, or trying to persuade me to buy some wildly overpriced item they had discovered on TikTok. The interruptions that had distracted—and sometimes frustrated—me all summer were suddenly the very things I missed.
The house felt empty. I felt isolated and alone.
Later that day, while walking the dog, I looked through photos from the morning. I saw big smiles, arms wrapped around friends, and the particular excitement that only a first day of school can bring. I reminded myself that I was allowed to miss my children and feel sad—and I could also share in their excitement.
Two things can be true at the same time: I can feel joy and sadness. I can welcome what is beginning while grieving what is ending.
I fed my joy by sharing the morning’s pictures with people I love. I made space for my sadness by sitting in the quiet and noticing what I missed.
If you are also navigating a back-to-school transition—or any transition that has stirred emotions you weren’t expecting—I hope you allow yourself to hold both. Look for the joy, and make meaningful space for the sadness. Neither feeling diminishes the other. Together, they tell the truth about what it means to love something while it is changing.
Harper and Heath heading off to Kindergarten and 3rd grade in 2020
Harper and Heath headed to 9th and 6th grades yesterday.
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