Last weekend, the grandboys came by for a photoshoot … in which they took turns playing, laughing, fussing, and full-on bawling and this GiGi about wore herself out. I think their mommies were tuckered, too. It may have been the fourth wardrobe change that put us all over the edge! But it was great fun making the first of their first Christmas memories.
I love that we captured an image of each grandboy on this day where he resembles his mommy — a rare glimpse, each clearly cut from his daddy’s cloth. I have dozens of photos of these two charmers, neither yet a year old. I smile every time I look at their sweet images, mere moments captured in time. Just a blink.
I really don’t like that life moves by so fast. Monday mornings are daunting, as I survey the week ahead. I know there is more work than time. The workweek flies by in a blur; some mornings start early, some days end late. On Friday evening, when I take stock of all I must, should or hope to do, I know the weekend will also be too short. It never fails! I try desperately to make it last, savoring Sunday. But it seems just another blink and I am once again facing down Monday with some chagrin.
Measuring time is a mystery to me. So much is behind me — raising three babies, two now with babies of their own; college and more college, now on the other side of mid-career; thirty-one years of marriage and farm life, now the next generation is leading change. It seems incredible that I recall relatively few details of this amazing journey with any clarity. How did we do that? I often wonder.
I try hard not to think about how fast my life is progressing. I try never to panic. I fail miserably.
In desperation, I’ve devised a few ways to convince myself that time is of no consequence; I have all the time in world. My favorite of all is rocking a grandbabe to sleep. Then, time is measurable: breath by breath. As his lengthen and deepen, I silently will him to sleep soundly, to stretch out the preciousness of he and me keeping quiet company. My arm may fall asleep before he stirs but I will be stubborn about it, resolved not to break the spell. This, too, will pass much too fast.
~ René Morley