Remember

Wishing I could freeze this moment in time-- As I played with the wavy brown locks of my oldest girl while she ready Harriet the Spy on the couch, the little girls danced to Elton John. My legs propped up on Matt’s while he sat admiring the beauty before us. Trinity intently studied the words on the page of her book trying not to be distracted by the cherubs on the dark wood floor in front of her.

Micah pirouetting across the floor while Emory flapped her arms as if she was getting ready to take off in flight. Then, they began to fight, arguing over a fake red tomato, which Micah quickly grabbed and climbed to the top of the cedar chest holding high above her head in an attempt to keep it from Emory. And I smile, noticing her zipper down. In all its open glory, I could see Elmo’s face peeking through the hole, and I wondered if Elmo’s creator ever imagined the little red face would be peeking out of a three year old’s open fly while she held a giant plastic tomato up above her grinning face while her almost two year old sister wailed beneath her. And we all listened to Elton John’s pre-programmed song on the keyboard in the other room.

Why do moments like these slip from our mind? The sweet perfection of an instant of family time—something quite impossible to relish in these days. I want to never ever forget this time with my girls. Everyday I am reminded of the fast pace which wastes away each and every last minute with those girls I once swaddled and rocked.

Tonight I sit quietly, alone at my desk, typing, wishing the computer screen was brighter so I wouldn’t strain my eyes so much, listening to the rain on the noisemaker in the other room, and thinking I really should get up and turn off the light in the bedroom so Matt could sleep a little more peacefully.

Even when all is quiet in the house, I am still disturbed by the dog outside who thinks he found a skunk. And after I locate the only working flashlight and go to search the backyard, I realize that I have never even walked to the back fence of my yard since we bought this house last April. Really, when did I run out of time to even explore my own backyard? And now, I am doing it, with a dim flashlight, a barking dog, and a clothesline that I keep walking into.

I remember, as a little girl, walking along the fence of the 90 acres I lived on. I remember exploring the dry creek beds hoping to find a remnant of a dinosaur or some wild Indian. I remember picking peaches and figs and oogling over the makeshift septic system which amounted to a large hole in the ground. I remember walking to the very furthest fence behind our house, jumping it, and then exploring the gravestones at an abandoned graveyard we found. I remember watching my brothers whittle wood and hit golf balls off the top of the hill to see how far they would go. I remember swimming in a tank full of moss and clearing out the moss with my hands, and I remember how spongy and wet that moss felt between my fingers. And I remember my toes sinking into the squishy sediment on the bottom of the pond that felt so cold. I remember the year the pond froze over, and we could walk on it and throw rocks that would slip around on the surface. And I remember wishing I was a famous ice skater even though there is never enough ice to be a famous ice skater in central Texas.

And then I think about my big girl…who got to go ice skating this year. She was so proud to have gotten off the edge of the rink and skating in the middle. So proud she was dying to go a second time just so she could show her dad. And I wondered, did she also pretend she was a famous ice skater? Did she talk to herself like I did on the icy tank that day having a conversation between herself and all the fans who wanted her autograph?
Where has the time gone? It seems like yesterday I watched the 9-11 terrorist attack on the television while I rocked this same little girl in my arms.

I find it bittersweet…that time is gone so quickly. I am anxious to be done with diapers, but I know what that also means. My girls will be grown too soon. A lady at church reminded me to hold onto them and savor each minute: the good, the bad, the ugly. I didn’t do such a good job last year. But I know God is reminding me of these things for a reason, so I will try and smile more when my freezer door is left open or when there is a naked child on my countertop (don’t ask.) And I will try and remember that the weight of the world is only on my shoulders if I let it be. Hopefully, I will check a few things off my list of things to do, but if my pen stays safely in its holder one day, I will try to remember to savor my minutes with my gifts.

It is okay if Micah wants to read Mabel O’Leary Put Peas in Her Eary for the 97th time. It is a funny story, and I guess everyone should learn the reasons why you shouldn’t put peas in your ear. And it is also okay if the majority of Emory’s day is spent naked or coloring on things that shouldn’t be colored on—again, important lessons (I think.) And so be it if Trinity prefers to wear dresses with high heeled shiny red shoes and pants that don’t match. I used to wear red shoes with everything too.

So, for today and forward, I hope to take more breaths, smile more, kiss those dimpled knuckles many times a day, and capture more moments. Take them in. Sip on them. Love them. And make a mental picture of the times to remember and smile at. One day the little girls will be grown up, but their Elmo panties and tomato taunting can last forever in a memory.