Wednesday, September 19, 2012

On A Bike Ride

We went on a walk today.  Actually, I went on a walk.  Hallie was riding her bike, and Hanna and Heather were sitting back, cruising along double-stroller style.  The sun was shining, giving the earth one of its last few warm embraces before winter comes and blankets us with heavy snow.  Hallie was pedaling furiously in front of me, her feet and her mouth going a mile a minute.  The wind rushing past swooped her words away from me, and I could not pick out any distinct words.  I listened then to the steady rush rush of her voice, watched her tan little legs hurrying up and down, up and down, her slim back postured up so straight and tall.  She talked on and on, the wind carrying her voice up up and away to where only angels could hear.  My ears missed her words, but my heart caught the meaning in her voice.

Enjoy this moment, Mama.  You may have a million more moments like this one, every day feeling exactly the same, but sooner than you know I will go to kindergarten, quickly followed by Hanna and Heather, and sooner even after that we will all leave for college.  Enjoy this moment, Mama.

Don't blink, Mama.  I might look the same every morning when you are picking out my outfit and helping me get dressed, but sooner than you know I will outgrow all of these clothes and be buying my own, with my own money.  Sooner than you know I will store my clothes in a dresser, in a bedroom, in a house far, far from yours.  Don't blink, Mama.

But if you have to close your eyes, Mama, make sure to do it when you are snuggled tight against a small warm body.  Close your eyes and put them right on the cushion of my cheek, let my warm breath tickle you, let my soft snores be the white noise in your dreams.  Don't close your eyes, Mama.  But if you do, snuggle me.

Memorize it, Mama.  No matter how hard you try, you cannot keep Heather's two teeth smile, Hanna's hilarious statements and wild dancing, or Hallie's deep and penetrating, and oh so innocent questions about everything.  You cannot keep it, Mama, not in your hands, or your arms, so store it in your heart.  Memorize it all, Mama.

I could not catch most of the words Hallie said to me, as she biked in front of me on our walk today.  But at one point, she braked - a brand new skill she's learned - and turned around.  Smiling wide, she said, "Don't you think so, Mama?"

Yes, Hallie. I think so.  Every time.  Always.




8 comments:

  1. I have precious memories in my heart. Thanks for all the memories you put there.
    Love Mom

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  2. Amy that was so sweet. I got all teary eyed!

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  3. I agree with everyone else about this post making me teary eyed! Thanks for reminding me to enjoy these little moments. I needed it today.

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  4. Well, thanks for making me cry. That was beautiful.

    This morning I was at JCPenney for the second time trying to get Danny's 18 month photos taken. I grew up loving the pictures Mom and Dad had of the four of us around 18 months, and I was determined my children would have beautiful pictures like that, too.

    Danny is determined that the pictures will have to be 5 year old pictures or something.

    Last time he cried the whole time, and I ended up with a photo shoot of Jill.

    This time the photo shoot was still a lot of Jill, but he would agree to close up pictures if he could sit on my legs.

    I actually looked at him once and sighed saying, "Danny, I love you, but you are really annoying me right now."

    But in reality, some day I won't be able to solve all of his problems just by pulling him onto my lap and holding him close, and I am so, so sure that I will miss this "annoying" moment more than anything.

    Hm. Maybe I should blog, too.

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  5. Presently what did you say? I considered necessary! Maybe to facilitate bidding transpire my inspiration on behalf of the week, keep it emergence!

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