The breeze is blowing. As the breeze has blown for centuries, across waves and flowers and children’s faces, all stretching across eternity from one end to the other. When one moves on, another is there to take its place. On a level bigger than myself, I know this is the true and normal way of things, but for me there is only one lifetime of waves, flowers, and children. I’m missing my boys today, the only imperfection in a day that’s otherwise perfect.
There are still a lot of summer family memories to make!
There are some days when I see Jake and Eli full of evolving joy, when I hear them planning their dreams and ideas. I love to see them running or riding, up ahead of me, off to the next new adventure.
“I wish we had a bat in the house, to eat all the mosquitos.”
“I haven’t made you cookies…” “That’s okay, you’re still a great Mommy!”
“1-2-3-4-Let’s have a thumb war!”
There are other days when I wonder how much I miss, by not listening when I should. Or noticing the toys all over the floor instead of what they’ve created, and only later after tucking them in and kissing them goodnight, do I wish I’d spent even a few extra minutes holding them tight while they’re still ours to hold tight.
Jake and Eli are now 7. Mike and I are rested. We wake up early now on purpose and love it. The laundry is put away, I’m starting to return e-mails again, my pictures are organized and mostly up to date. Mike and I watch TV sometimes just for fun, things like Homeland, Downton Abby, and The Great British Bake-Off. We listen to NPR in the kitchen while doing the dishes. None of our friends have babies anymore. When did all this happen?
Now I’m a person with a permanent pile of children’s books on my nightstand and bins of Legos in my living room.
We shall not pass this way again.
Here’s to making the first time around magical enough that we won’t need to.