Sandwiched Between Love

Motherhood is a breeding ground for nostalgia. Because those darn kids grow up so fast. And those memories when the kidlets are exuberant and smothering with nonstop energy—the tear-your-hair-out years (yet always adorable when they’re asleep) melt like candle wax into a pastel, scented replay. 

The fondness for times gone by. 

My recent vacation to the sandy beaches of Florida stirred this up for me. As I walked solo on the sand (my husband golfed), previous spring breaks with our daughter flooded my mind. I remember staking our umbrella claim to view mesmerizing celadon water slapping the shore, an endless quest for shells lined in pink, and fair (sun-screened) fingers crafting sandcastle architecture.

If I could paint the watercolor of my memories, I’d frame it and hang it as artwork over the fireplace. 

But it’s not just motherhood memories that flare the embers of nostalgia. Because now, I’m tending to generations above and below. Sandwiched, as it’s called. (If you’re unfamiliar, the "sandwich generation" refers to middle-aged adults who simultaneously care for older children and aging parents.)

The dual responsibility dishes up dual nostalgia. A double whammy of wistfulness for the times when both generations were younger. 

Aptly named, because don’t certain sandwiches bring back fond times or places in your life? Childhood specialties with the corners cut off and school lunch box favorites evoke comfort and warmth between two slices of bread. 

The sandwiches we ate as a child are probably the ones we made for our children.

It’s funny how it flip-flops. My daughter’s world used to revolve around our small family. Then it rippled outward through concentric circles. My parents’ world was expansive and far-reaching. Now their circles are constricting back toward a tight center of the closest family and friends.

It’s a generational version of trading places.

More family vacations reel through my mind. I conjure the image of my dad’s younger, grandfatherly stance, hunched protectively over my daughter—ready to stabilize her if a wave’s motion caught her by surprise. 

Now my dad’s walker stabilizes him, and my daughter is an ambitious adult. Still boasting a delightful laugh, she has limited time for carefree vacations. Careful planning has replaced the proclamation—we’re going on vacation—as when she was younger. There are schedules to contend with and it’s difficult for my parents to travel with the same ease.

This can be a challenging stage of life, particularly for women. While alternating between hormonally inconsistent and wistfully sentimental, we sway back and forth on an emotional swing set.

Yet here’s the blessing of being tucked into the sandwich generation. We’re all still here. And isn’t that the essence of this whole thing? Being here. Because it won’t always be that way. So yes, the watercolor nostalgia evokes a soft beauty, and I treasure our memories. But this contemplation also reflects how everything changes. 

We don’t lose the experiences of time gone by—we add them like fabric squares to an everchanging patchwork quilt. I fast forward in my mind and imagine future me turning my nostalgic lens on today. Our nowness will also be a memory someday. 

Everything changes. 

Just like our sandwich choices. We graduate from childhood favorites. The gooey PB&J is a gateway to more sophisticated options. But no matter what fills the middle, still, sandwiches are a reliable staple.

So, what about now? Let’s savor it.

It feels right when hearty bread holds the nourishment together. It fits nicely in the hand. As in life, there’s a completeness, a tucked-together feeling when we rest in the middle and appreciate the now.

Jennifer Cramer-Miller is an author and speaker, focusing on stories of hope, and her award-winning memoir, Incurable Optimist: Living with Illness and Chronic Hope received a Publishers Weekly starred review "... a knockout memoir... "  Join her newsletter community here and visit her website at JenniferCramerMiller.com. You’ll find her other essays featured in HuffPost, Zibby Mag, Brevity Blog, The Sunlight Press, Next Avenue, Grown & Flown, The Erma Bombeck Blog, Star Tribune, Minnesota Physician, Mamalode, and Medium.