Monday, March 28, 2011
There is a lot about my life right now that I will miss when this time becomes our past. A lot that I don't realize I will miss yet. I just know it.
I informed Dr. Gooch this morning, with our heads still on our pillows, "Someday soon we are going to say, 'Remember when the kids were in elementary school and we stayed in bed until after 8 o'clock?'"
His grunt confirmed to me that he knew it, too.
How cliche. To mourn these little years and their quickened nature? Yes, cliche. But isn't the truth of it that makes it that way? This last photo of a series of photos we took during a day with our pre-schoolers was taken on a path at a public garden. Dr. Gooch was making all sorts of noises to try and get the girls to look at the camera where we crouched in the Camelia forest. But, we were distracted by what he couldn't see. A youngish, but oldish, inbetweenish couple standing in silly grins behind our crouched photographer, waiting with patient knowing for us to finish the show.
For, with little ones, everywhere is a show. We walk along shouting directions from offstage, "Stay on the path! Look at the fish in the pond! Walk! Walk! Don't pick those, only the fallen ones on the ground! Come back!" Nothing is quiet, we don't ever just pass by. If you are there for your peaceful garden stroll, we will tap dance past, flipping our batons and fluffing our pom poms and cheers as we navigate these little years. My apologies ahead of time.
Dr. Gooch finished the shot and we let the oneswhoskidsareallinschool pass by and we cowered under their wise smiles.
But they don't know that we are really trying. Really trying to live in this present. They don't know that I know I will miss these days. This present. Even if sometimes the box feels small, too small for our minds and hearts and the wrapping is tight. We still love the gift of it.
These little years.