to my children
June 14, 2015 § 2 Comments
Last Wednesday we piled into the car for a short drive up the street. The weather lately has been uncooperative, wet and cool then hot and humid. I was thinking mostly of the clouds as we drove the short distance, my eyes on the blue patches of sky second guessing the decision to drive; we might have walked after all, but then I was also already planning what we might need to do later.
It was in arriving that I lost track of all the mundane thoughts that had only moments before held my attention. Time stood still as years chased old memories around a tiny bundle of hope swathed in love. I can’t recall the last time I held such a new life or when the memory of your own infancy felt so tangible against the impossibility of your adolescence.
Sometimes magic sneaks up on us in plain sight.
Memories tumbled unbidden of days lost to old photographs and fractured reminiscing. It seemed a trick of sentiment that I could recall days long past with the clarity of yesterday even as you leaned curiously over the tiny sleeping form who fascinated us with content irreverence for our fussing. My children bent tenderly in respectful fascination over another’s miracle.
How quickly the years have slipped from the moment beneath my feet. Time is a funny measure of life, memories changing the weight of minutes into something we cannot so easily define.
Love, Mom
scribblechic 
“Sometimes magic sneaks up on us in plain sight.” Perfectly said.
Thanks, Kay!