To blink or not to blink

When we were driving by our current house over and over again, hoping the sale would go through, I used to look around at everything. I wanted to take pictures of the worn barns, the restored and not-so-restored old homes and the horses and the tractors causing us to go 40 miles under the speed limit. I never did because taking pictures while driving would be the quickest way to take out a tractor driver and because I hoped I would be driving these same quirky roads for years to come.

For the first few months we were here I pointed out signs for alpacas and fields of growing stuff (corn maybe? I’m no gardner) and dizzied the kids with my look-over-there‘s when we went for walks. I was so excited by our new surroundings and had big plans for not forgetting how much I loved it.

Sawyer likes to perch on the headboard of our bed and jump onto the mattress like a superhero whose name is Super or Captain-someone and see how many launches he can get away with before getting caught. Yesterday I spotted him mid-descent and I was just far enough away to really see him. His arms were long and his legs were longer and his face lost at least half its cheeks. I lifted him from the bed to test out his growing up status and he pushed up his glasses that we’ve only broken once.

On the drive to school this morning I noticed trees without leaves that I don’t remember changing from yellow to red and Parker counted to ten in Chinese. I only know this because I asked him to translate. The sign for $1 goldfish is gone and so is the stand I had always planned to stop at for corn.

The moving forward and the changing of all these days just keeps happening no matter how much I pinky-swear to slow it down and take it in. Yesterday I was dreaming up something to put above the fireplace and today I’m stepping on Legos as I try to find the Pottery Barn catalog to swat flies. The funny thing is though, tomorrow I will be dreaming back to today… when my biggish-little ones would squish on my lap for a story and my oldest asked for a kiss before the bus.

There’s always something a bit sweeter about yesterday and a little more hopeful about tomorrow. It’s the sitting in today and liking it just as it is that is the hardest. Not wishing for yesterday or next week but hanging out right here, in the middle of now, letting your eyes focus until they blur and the day is crystal clear.

rainbow sun

 

being present

 

__________

And did I mention I’m in a new book? Today is the last day to download it for free. It’s pretty much a survival guide for the grieving mother and I’m so honored to be among such amazing ladies.

Comments

comments

Powered by Facebook Comments

Comments

  1. says

    yes. this. all of this. so beautiful, and such a big congratulations on being included in the book! I wish no one had the life experience on how to be a grieving mother, but so glad, since it is a reality, that there are beautiful mamas like you to hold hands with each hurting one.
    tara pohlkotte recently posted..{Un}becoming

  2. says

    I love the lines “There’s always something a bit sweeter about yesterday and a little more hopeful about tomorrow. It’s the sitting in today and liking it just as it is that is the hardest.” So so true! I wish I lived closer so I could go to your lantern release – I will be thinking of you and Hadley.

    Congratulations on the book – I am off to go search for it. xo
    Lanie recently posted..Wave of Light for October 15th