My sister is a writer. I think one of the reasons she breathes the written word is that she hates for life to pass by. I did not say pass her by, for if you know my sister you know that's not possible. She holds on to things, and she cherishes them.
I, on the other hand, love the pace of life. In a regrettable way I often bear the present by looking forward to what's coming next. Recently it hit me that soon I will stop dead in my tracks and look backward. Like a runner in a sprint kicking up dust I will stop in a cloud my tracks have created and not be able to see through the dust.
That said, here's to remembering. Here's to holding on, and here's to what I'm grateful for.
I'm grateful that I found a golf ball in my purse today for the second time this month. I'm grateful it was hidden there by my two-year-old fireball, and I'm grateful he's latching on to one of his daddy's passions.
There are tiny bathing suits draped over my bathtub, and they are haphazard and in dire need of grass-stain treatment. Often I roll my eyes and wish for tidiness, but today, this week, for now, I am glad they are there.
Laundry is piling up in my husband's man room. I pride myself in leaving his room clean and alone, it is a small gift I give him that he might not even realize (except that now it's out there in the blog-o-sphere). I don't have time to do a lick with that laundry, now that our third son has come home, and today I am grateful for that. I am so glad that there is laundry piling up and that dishes sat in the sink because I chose to build blocks with William instead of clean.
Tonight I'm grateful that my husband cleaned the kitchen, that I didn't have to, and that while he cleaned the kitchen I truly appreciated a cheap glass of wine with my sister at a small deli. I'm grateful that I have a sister to share cheap wine with, a husband who gets it, and a kitchen that had to be cleaned at all. (As an aside, please note the irony that I dumped clothes all over his man room and he cleaned the kitchen to spotless.)
Today I'm grateful that my yard looks like Cousin Eddy from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation just left--because all of those basketballs, soccer balls, baseballs, footballs, tricycles, scooters, clothing, goggles, shovels, and superheroes that took a swim in our inflatable pool are the leftovers from days and nights of brothers having fun.
I am grateful for the children's books running rampant in my van, grateful for the little socks I find balled up under my comforter at the foot of my bed, grateful for the pieces of grass at the bottom of the bathtub, grateful for the adventure my kids are living.
Furthermore, while I will never be grateful for losing sleep, I am grateful that my newest son is home, and that he needs me in the middle of the night.
Most of these moments will be forgotten. I will forget how Jonathan sang a song to me while he tunneled through a cardboard box in our living room. I will forget how tenderly William approaches his baby brother when he approaches everything else in life with such gusto and ferocity. I will even forget how it feels to get butterfly kisses from my four-year-old son and how he was so excited when his baby brother gave him butterfly kisses.
But, God, don't let me forget that it was sweet.
