Today, as I rocked my baby to sleep for her afternoon nap, I looked down and noticed her soft, sweet little feet sticking far out, over the arm of the rocking chair. Earlier, I had sat next to a friend rocking a wrinkly, smooshy newborn and wondered at how short a time ago my firstborn had been that small in my own arms. It’s been a day of the future gently nudging at my present, reminding me of how time rushes past, despite my feeble attempts to save it in a flurry of photographs, saved art projects, careful memory-making.I am acutely aware that my precious family will never again be exactly the way it is today. Tomorrow, we will all be a day older. A day older, certainly, and hopefully a day more loved and loving. And that’s what’s so clear to me today- no matter what the future holds, we have done the work of loving each other for another day.
It may not have been perfect love in action. Maybe not even close. (Sometimes, there is yelling. It’s inevitable.) That’s ok. But at some point in the future, near or far, there will be hundreds, thousands of these days of being loved stretching out behind us. They add up, bolstering us to face the tomorrows that might be hard and lonely, or bursting with joy. That is what I want my family to be about. Really, that’s what I want my life to be about.
*An administrative note: I moved this site over to www.agentlemother.com. If you’re subscribed on this site, head over there and re-subscribe. I promise I’ll make it worth your while!