Summer 2024

By Rachel Formaro

As I write this, the internet is out, a storm is raging, and a nap beckons. I’ve been reflecting on the past summer, realizing that “what I did” has been replaced with “how I was able to be.” It’s part of an ongoing journey in work and life, the balance between callings and calls.

While summer officially started June 21/22, for me it started with the last day my young teenage daughter was in school for the 2023–2024 academic year. This year, that was May 19, as my husband, daughter, and I traveled on May 20 for 10 wonderful days in Italy —  our first overseas trip together.

It was also the first time in 10 years that I have taken a stretch of time off from my work running a boutique consulting company. For almost two weeks, I didn’t join meetings from afar, look at emails, or work on a project. My team only reached out to me once, with a question from a client that ended up not to be an urgent issue at all. Overall, a success — and time with family in Rome, Palermo, and a sweet beachside village called Donnalucata was fantastic. My mind-body is best near water.

I realized that such a break was only possible because I had created the conditions for it with the recent hiring of a fellow executive — our chief brand officer, Jenny (who also happens to be a dear friend of almost two decades). Of course, the other chief executive is my husband, Tom (our CFO) — which was the best hiring decision many years ago but does add a little complexity for family vacations.

After our return from Italy, it was diving right into summer activities for my daughter. Our daily schedules were a little all over the place, especially as she has aged out of typical day camps and yet is too young to get a job or create her own schedule. June and most of July had a strange fluidity of low-level chaos, weather events (we lost power and a beloved oak tree), drop-offs and pickups, and teenage hormones, not to mention my own journey through menopause.

For the latter part of July and first part of August, we went to Canada (southern Ontario specifically) to stay with my mum for family time together. Living at my mum’s is yet another interesting little mix of life — a disruptive blend of still working and yet vacationing. I welcomed every moment to be with her, especially as we continue our mourning and processing of losing my dad almost two years ago. In the future, I’ve decided, I will not work when I’m staying at my mum’s and/or on vacation with my family.

My mum is a very healthy and active 74-year-old, and her courage and introspection inspire me. While my mum was a homemaker and did the lioness’s (and lion’s) share of raising three daughters (me being the eldest), my dad took care of providing the household income, aside from the money my mum made as a seamstress and at various part-time jobs. He generally took care of things like making sure the cars were functioning and filled with gas, and that all of the administrivia of taxes, investments, banking, etc. were managed.

In the last 20 months, with some help from her daughters and sons-in-law, my mum has steadfastly and courageously taken on the running of her rural home, tax filings, banking, investments (with a great team of women advisors), car maintenance, and traveling solo. I am so proud of her.

While with her this summer, my mum and I had many conversations about what her future looks like, and we worked together on simplifying her administrative load as much as possible to give her maximum peace of mind and enjoyment of life. I reviewed her investments, her taxes, and her banking. We went through papers and documents to be sure they were no longer needed and could go into the fire pit. We talked about household items she’d want to keep on an eventual move and which could be donated.

We also talked about and shared our “coulda-woulda-shoulda” moments related to life with my dad, especially in the months leading up to his death. It helped to give voice to and release those feelings and emotions together into the wild, instead of keeping them bottled up inside.

Mum and I also attended a group meditation session that included being in a circle with about nine other people — and roaming horses. One horse, Sayla, rested her muzzle on my right shoulder and breathed gently next to my ear partway through the session. It was magical and healing.

The days that we leave my mum to head back to our home in Des Moines are always sad for me. I gave her several big hugs knowing that we’ll be back on our weekly Zoom until we’re together in person again. That doesn’t prevent a tearful goodbye, however.

Now I’m home, sleeping in my own bed, and finding my way through the remaining two weeks before school starts (and summer ends — in my mind anyway). I woke up in the middle of last night not sure exactly where I was.

I’ve got my head in two worlds — disassembled summer days where I’m trying to capture time with my daughter and picking up my mantle of leading a small-but-mighty 10-year-old company forward with its own set of needs (not unlike a teenager). With the storm outside, I have a sense of peace inside realizing that it will be as it will be, and that’s the whole point.