Simple Thank You

This week I was talking to a colleague and sharing with them that my children were five and seven. I almost stopped mid-sentence because, for a moment, I felt like I was lying. How is it possible that my children are FIVE and SEVEN?

As a parent I have spent a lot of time - too much time - wishing the day away. Is it bedtime yet? This damn day is never-ending. When will it be over?

I have equally wished it away out of excitement. The excitement of fall being just around the corner. Anxiously awaiting Thanksgiving, because that’s basically Christmas. Budding leaves mean spring is in the air, which has me so excited for longer days, because that means the Delta breeze of summer will soon be here.

The wisdom of age is revealing itself to me, reminding me that wishing for what’s next is a trap. It is a perpetual thief of what is true, and real, and good.

Tonight I am going to lay with them at bedtime - the bedtime I hate to admit that I sometimes curse, because when is he going to be able to fall asleep without me laying next to him, telling him made up stories about the island with the golden heart - and I am going to breathe him in. I’m going to kiss her still baby soft skin, and embrace their still mini-sized frames and say a simple thank you. Thank you for this right now.

The truth is that I will forget this wisdom come tomorrow. That’s the way it works, right? Curse it, learn from it, forget it, start back over. Hopefully just a teensy bit wiser than the last time.

I’m grateful that today I remembered, though.