Decades ago every event or holiday was an opportunity to dress my young children in colorful costumes. Our calendar was always full. Parties and picnics. School celebrations. Parades. Pleased with their new outfits, and anticipating the festivities, my kids posed, sometimes smiling, for the camera.
“I can’t wait for them to start school,” I often said back then. “It will be so good when this day is over.” Motherhood was exhilarating but exhausting. I was always wishing time away.
Yesterday a friend dragged me out to a park to see the fireworks. I couldn’t remember when I’d last walked in the park, and was amazed at the hundreds of young families in small clusters in every direction. We sat on the base of a lamppost by a family camped out on a blanket. The little girls swatted each other and blew bubbles. Giggling, in polka dot dresses, they swirled around with glow sticks. I watched them as much as I watched the show in the sky.
“Growing like weeds,” people say about children. Yes, they grow up and away. Too quickly, it seems, looking back. And suddenly you find yourself mesmerized by the sight of other people’s laughing children, like they’re rare creatures from an old dream.
What moment in time slipped away too quickly for you? If you could spend an evening back in your past, what and where would it be?
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Exquisite photo. Look at those little faces. It’s hard to appreciate the sweet chaos of life with children or a spouse when we haven’t experienced the afterwards. I guess it takes perspective. I’m a slow learner, but I know now to distrust my complaints. Thank you, Robin.
Still learning. Still missing the old sweet chaos. Darn. Still need to learn to live in the moment, love the moment. Be here now. Gonna go play fetch with the dog for a bit. Hugs.
An utterly adorable photo full of innocence and beauty!
I honestly cannot think of any particular evening that I would want to relive. No one evening stands out in my memory. Have I missed something?
No, you’re not missing out on anything, Annette. You’re simply too busy making new moments. Pretty remarkable at your age. Cheers!
Robin this article hit home in more ways than I expected. My kids are also grown and have moved on. I miss the days when they were small. But somehow nature works. I have grandkids.
When my kids were smaller, I held their hand to cross the street. My grandkids, I cross the street to hold their tiny hands. That is the only way I can describe it.
Things change and follow a pattern. But something new always seems to fill the void. Somehow there is a plan in all this chaos.
Your article describing how you experienced kids in the park is a perfect example. You shared their joy and their wonder at the world. Us old ones need that once in a while. I hope you visit that park again.
Robert, I made up my mind, even before reading your response, to visit that park more often. Not having a family (well, not a family close by to do things with), I usually avoid events and places that attract families. But it was so much fun and seemed to be exactly where I should be that I’ve had to rethink that. Yes, something always seems to fill the void. But I never know when something will trigger those sad feelings. The same feelings that keep me feeling like I don’t belong anymore, like I might spoil it for another family.