Time for life
A friend just posted about taking some time with his son to watch the final launch of the shuttle Atlantis and how he hopes that those stolen moments of time will be what he remembers, and my comment was so poignant, for me, that I have to record it:
I am finally-- Finally-- starting to learn to err on the side of time. Sophie went to the Lavendar Festival yesterday with our now former neighbor and when she got home, the baby was hungry and we'd been moving all day. But hearing her excited voice as she recounted the details and seeing her feel fulfilled at telling me was so very worth it. At one point she said, "Mama, can you look at me?" and I realized that even in her recount I'd been distracted. But as soon as I returned my attention her excitement returned. I defer her so much. But I hope against hope that it's the times that I listened that she'll remember.
I am finally-- Finally-- starting to learn to err on the side of time. Sophie went to the Lavendar Festival yesterday with our now former neighbor and when she got home, the baby was hungry and we'd been moving all day. But hearing her excited voice as she recounted the details and seeing her feel fulfilled at telling me was so very worth it. At one point she said, "Mama, can you look at me?" and I realized that even in her recount I'd been distracted. But as soon as I returned my attention her excitement returned. I defer her so much. But I hope against hope that it's the times that I listened that she'll remember.