The college-aged version of myself had a different schedule and rhythm of life than I do now. I was the type of student who was goal oriented and wanted everything to go according to my plan.
I remember choosing my first-year class schedule to make sure I never had to wake up before sunrise. That first year of freedom needed to have, well, freedom. I even made space between classes to go on “discovery walks” of the campus. The school tour can only prepare you for so much.
I can still see it all. The buildings with names of people I didn’t know and signs that all blurred together. I would walk from my dorm to the student center, where there was always something to see. There were strangers that seemed so interesting yet at the same time daunting, and other young millennials that seemed to be thinking the same thoughts that ran through my head.
I often thought to myself, is this really my place for the next four or more years? Can I do this? How will I do this? Is there food?
Behind those clusters of kindred people was the main bookstore with displays of texts piled high that I knew had to be on my class syllabus lists. Next to the books was all the school merchandise I couldn’t afford. Still walking, I’d end up at the cafeteria, which had more varieties of ramen on offer than were healthy for any human. Life was so simple then, but far more complex in my head.
That first day on campus piled up into more days, eventually totaling months and years of my life. But what lasted beyond anything I learned in college was the presence of that group of like-minded millennials sitting in front of the bookstore that day.
Although I don’t talk to or live near many of those people now, the time we spent together and the community forged during those budding years are incomparable.
During that time, we were a tribe.
I’m finding the same is true and needed for womanhood and motherhood: People from various generations, backgrounds and stages of life should be a constant.
Who knew that throughout one’s stages of life, the tribes and communities you build develop into lasting memories?
During a recent dinner with a group of friends, one talked about the trials of parenting her college-age daughter. She relayed little stories and nuggets from her perspective, prompting the rest of us to start swapping our own tales. I remember how I once looked at my mom and aunts and wondered why they needed to share stories all the time. Now I get it.
Those conversations often forge bonds and teach us to love our lives even during moments that are hard to embrace.
Stories and memories can be gold! Where do you think your favorite Netflix series about families gets its inspiration? From real life and the sharing of real experiences.
Twenty years later, this girl still loves sharing stories.
I told a good friend about a new discovery I made while parenting middle schoolers.
“It’s really no different from parenting toddlers,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and pursing my lips with a mischievous smirk. “The pouting and spicy attitudes are tantrums because they’re tired and can’t find a way to use their words. Sometimes, they just need a snack and a nap! That simple.”
The laughter was perfectly timed because what I’d said was undeniably hilarious and true.
Stories just don’t get old.
Just this past week, I received a video from a friend where she had captured funny moments with her toddler son. I sit in the parking lot a bit longer before driving away, just so I could finish watching it right then and there.
“I can’t make up the things,” she said as she paused and wiped tears of laughter from her face. “ I never thought the sentence, ‘Take your sister’s foot out of your mouth’ would come out of my mouth!”
This Mother’s Day, I’m thankful for my tribe – beautiful women who just keep me loving life and all its seasons. I’m glad to share my middle school parent struggles or the family-friendly new event coming up with free entry and great local food trucks.
Here’s hoping you get to swap some really good stories with your tribe that make you shed a tear, realize something true and make you laugh until your sides hurts. You see, life really can be simple.
Twenty years from now, another version of me will surely look back and remember how sharing life with my tribe is always the best part.
Diamone Ukegbu is a local Little Haiti artist, creative, mom and wife.