I’m trying to figure it out.
Where the time went.
How in the world we got from there to here so quickly.
And I know I’ll say that again and again throughout this ever-present, fast-paced, brilliant life.
Where that little chubby boy went. When he became a pre-teen.
How he got to be standing next to me and I hardly have to look down to see his blue eyes.
When she lost those baby teeth and started looking less like a toddler, more like a girl.
A real, breathing, laughing, chattering girl.
I have a girl.
And I don’t know what I’m doing as a parent, and it scares me.
And I hope I can do this thing well.
I wouldn’t mind figuring out how to soak it in more effectively.
I would like to remember this.
How that little twin boy smiles when he’s in his element.
How he used to look and sound as a toddler.
How he would grin ear-to-ear when he heard his twin sister call him ‘Bobber.’
She never calls him that anymore.
And I wonder when I heard it for the last time, when they lost that often-corrected toddler pronunciation and became a real, growing boy and girl.
I breathed, I blinked, my heart beat. And like that, it was over.
I take things for granted, not even knowing I’ll miss it until it’s over and I see its flash, beckoning in hindsight.
There’s nothing like evening light and watching our children and taking their photos that can make me feel this way.
I think it’s the way the late-day light is so ethereal, so temporal.
In just 15 minutes things change from bright and saturated and yellow to hazy, lovely grey blue.
I feel like I’m racing against time, bumping up ISO, opening aperture, trying to capture the light, chasing it as if entreating it to stay.
As if I can grab empty air in my hand and hold it. Contradictory in its futility, and still I try.
Chasing time, wanting it to wait until I’m ready.
I see little things, the curve of their back, the spot in his hair that’s more blonde than the rest. Like Paul.
Her hair getting longer, a little messy, and she’s so proud that she did it herself.
The set of his chin, the changing jaw-line. The resolve in his eyes.
I see personalities reveal themselves, in the quiet light of day’s end.
How she loves to chatter while she’s in her element.
How quiet he gets, on his own watching the water. And I can see in his eyes that this makes his soul happy.
How focused he becomes, intent on his task, shutting the world out. Thinking, that one. Always thinking.
It’s times like this when the boys remind me of their father, and I like that.
And she reminds me so much of my sisters, and I like that.
I like watching them play with friends, and with their cousins, and seeing how they all mesh together, comfortable in that place.
I think it’s the light, the water that makes me wonder.
I love this little life we’re living.
It’s nothing grandiose, or spectacular in the grand scheme of things.
But it is precious. And so fleeting.
And I can’t help but know that it is good.