Take a picture

I want to hurry and write this down before I forget. I want to remember these moments before they slip through my fingers.

I want to remember that it is 7:05 and the sun is still warm. I want to remember the steamy mist off the bermuda from rains that came (finally!). I want to remember the cat lolling on the driveway, rolling, then turning. And the dog, Princess, anxiously walking from Ellen and then to Nathan and back again. Princess always can tell when something is up.

I will remember Ellen, her long hair pulled back, new chocker necklace displayed, striped shirt, so pretty. I will remember Nathan, strumming his guitar for a brief minutes, singing in that voice of his, the one that he has used since he was just a small boy. Now its deeper, huskier, a teenager's wistfulness coming through.

I will remember Eggo waffles, with syrup and peanut butter and white, cold milk. I will remember the too-sugary smell that threatens my already jumpy stomach.

I'll remember the faces of my children, excited but pensive, wondering what this new day -- this new year -- will bring them. One more chapter in their short lives already being written, already being etched into their memory.

There are moments as a parent that you have to wonder, "can I do this? Can I nurture another human being through the ups and downs of keyboards and braces, first days of school, breakups with girlfriends? Can I hold their hands when the fever spikes and the friends don't call? Can I celebrate the 3-point shot along with the goal that was great, but just a little too late?

Being a parent is allowing another human to take up residence in your life, forever altering your view of the world and showing them yours, knowing full well that they may take your view of life and keep it, discard it but in all liklihood change it. Its making yourself open and vulnerable to your own faulty ideas about love and life. Its having your own life rewritten each day by the questions and thoughts of another, while you struggle with answers that you thought you had figured out.

Parenting is, most of all, a path that you take to give life to another while redefining your own. It is all at once giving everything you thought you had, only to discover that in the giving you've grown more, lived more, loved more than you ever thought possible.

I will remember my kids today as they drove away, resolute and happy as they embraced a new year of their lives. I stood at the top of the driveway a little too long, tears forming as I knew they would -- as they no doubt knew and even counted on. I will remember Nathan saying, "Hey Mom, it's the first day of my SENIOR YEAR!" and his smile when he saw the tears coming. Isn't it every kid's longing to simply matter to their parents? To know they'll be missed terribly while at the same time knowing their parents will probably catch a few more minutes of sleep, go on with their day, be OK, even relieved a bit?

These are the moments, the pauses in the symphony of life lived with others, that we know that the rhythms of our lives are in sync and in step. That despite the colic, the worry, the questions and the concern, the harmony of lives lived together hits that resonant chord..."this is how it is suppose to be."

I will remember this moment, along with all the others, and cherish it forever.