This is the last year I got to have my side-kick, Clare, home with me for most of the day, every day, to bake and read and dance and pretend and laugh.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, says children grow up too fast.
“In a blink, they’ll be grown!” says my mom, my mother-in-law and the woman with the silver hair who smiles as my energetic, not-so-tiny bundles bound down the grocery aisle. I’ve even said it myself.
Those words have burned into my soul. They are like nails on a chalkboard to me. I hate those words.
And I’ve realized that it’s because as time passes, as they grow, I’ve missed it with all my blinking.
With all my living my life so full that it feels empty.
No more.
I hold the power to make each moment count.
I can slow time down.
I can stop worrying about every last detail and start paying attention to every important detail.
…crab apple tree dressed with white blooms and my favorite peony plant just starting to open
…empty lines of crisp paper
…just popped popcorn hot and salted just right
…light breaking through fingerprinted windows at the perfect moment
…flip flops smacking with each step
…heads thrown back in fits of giggles
…the smell of warm, vanilla cake magically rising in my oven
Loudly acknowledging in thought, in prayers that this moment is sweet.
Everyone, and I mean everyone, says children grow up too fast.
“In a blink, they’ll be grown!” says my mom, my mother-in-law and the woman with the silver hair who smiles as my energetic, not-so-tiny bundles bound down the grocery aisle. I’ve even said it myself.
Those words have burned into my soul. They are like nails on a chalkboard to me. I hate those words.
And I’ve realized that it’s because as time passes, as they grow, I’ve missed it with all my blinking.
With all my living my life so full that it feels empty.
No more.
I hold the power to make each moment count.
I can slow time down.
I can stop worrying about every last detail and start paying attention to every important detail.
…crab apple tree dressed with white blooms and my favorite peony plant just starting to open
…empty lines of crisp paper
…just popped popcorn hot and salted just right
…light breaking through fingerprinted windows at the perfect moment
…flip flops smacking with each step
…heads thrown back in fits of giggles
…the smell of warm, vanilla cake magically rising in my oven
Loudly acknowledging in thought, in prayers that this moment is sweet.
Not rushing through my appreciation.
But letting it burn into my soul.
But letting it burn into my soul.
Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth not knowing who will get it.
Psalm 39:6
Psalm 39:6
No comments:
Post a Comment