A friend brought her nephew into my office today. He will turn one soon and as I took him in my arms and looked into his wonder-filled eyes, I tried to remember what it was like to hold my own boys this way. It felt so familiar to have his little body tucked into the bend of my elbow, but when I tried to picture my little guys in the same sweet spot, I struggled.
Each day is so thick with moments -- quick hugs, noisy laughter, hot tears, spilled drinks, broken toys, looming homework, silly dances, jokes that don't make sense, question after question after question -- that distinguishing one from another becomes almost impossible. Instead, they melt together into one long second.
We could try to keep our eyes open, to capture every second on film, to write every detail in a journal, but it wouldn't work. The real loveliness of the moment comes in part from its temporal nature. Like catching lightning bugs in a jar, remembering it all would eventually ruin what we love. Sometimes, we have to take the lid off and get our pleasure from watching the fireflies drift away.
1 comment:
You said it perfectly. I've always joked that I need toothpicks for my eyes in order for my boys to stay young. The moments fly by but they are replaced by new wonderful ones. If only my memory was better...I could store more away. How about Dumbledore's pensive for moms?!?
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