We were there.
And now we’re here.
And I wonder just how it happened.
“The days are long, but the years are short.”
I always come back to that.
Again and again.
On the longest of days, I find myself crying.
Crying out of irritation.
Crying out of frustration.
Crying out for bedtime.
I watch the clock, counting down the minutes until the chaos begins to fade.
Deep breaths, Mama. Deep breaths.
But when the reality of how short the years are really hits, I find myself crying too.
Crying because sometimes it’s all so beautiful and so perfect and so wonderful
that my heart BOOMS extra hard,
and it all just bubbles up out of my eyes and runs down my cheeks.
And my heart is so full and I want these moments -
these moments when I can fix all the things,
and kiss away all the pains,
and fill their every need
- to last forever.
The years are short.
And it feels like they’re getting shorter.
So I’ll do my best to stretch out each moment and fill it with as much
as I can muster.
(And sometimes that might not be much)
(But I will try)
Because before I know it
now will be then