My Confession
I'm almost 25. Almost 25.
The other night I was lying in bed, minding my own business, pondering middle school, when I realized that my best friend in middle school had a little sister - Mindy - who was three when I last saw her. We all loved her, held her, doted on her.
And now she's 15? FIFTEEN. She's in HIGH SCHOOL. She's older now than I was when I last saw her! I'm TWENTY FIVE. In double my life, they will be planning my 50th birthday party.
In 25 years, I will be my dad's age.
When my mother was my age, she had two children already.
I'm twenty five! *wails*
I used to say, "I'll have kids when I'm twenty seven or thirty or something." Um! That's TWO YEARS AWAY! What happened to it being TEN YEARS AWAY?
A few weeks ago I saw (apologies in advance to aged new mothers) an older lady who was pregnant. She was probably 37-40... and I thought, "I don't want to be an old mom!" I want to look cute in maternity clothes, sporty, and sophisticated. You know, hot mama material! But if I keep waiting, I will be an old mother :-( But I don't want to have children now. I'm too young! Why can't I push "pause" on life just for a few years? I still think I'm 19 and can't quite figure out what flashed by.
I also realized that 18 years isn't very long. :-( The life span of a child in his parents' home is almost nothing. Is it horrible to hold your young baby and know that in even one year he will be so much bigger... and in five, he'll start school? To know that time robs you of the moments and only leaves bittersweet memories? To wonder what happened to all those years of parenting which turned out only to be a blink, and then your child is moving off to college? That small, helpless infant you birthed and bathed, cuddled and clothed will forever only be a memory - and a fading one at that?
Where are these moments going, these moments that slip by like sand in my fingers? James and I have been together for almost THREE YEARS. My gosh... I remember when we were first dating and it seemed like two weeks was an endless amount of time. Six months seemed like an eternity. And here we are, old farts looking to the future together, holding hands and cracking stupid jokes. And even these moments are slipping through my fingers too quickly.
My grandmother speaks of her cat DollyPosh - a cat she had in the 70s or something. She always remembers her and talks about her, fondly relating memories of this or that... And as I hold Boo, I know his life span is short. I utterly adore that cat. He is my kindred-spirit kitty. He sleeps in my arms every night his face meshed in my hand, body pressed against mine, he gets his feelings hurt (and sulks!) if I ignore him. And I know someday he will only be a treasured memory stored away in my heart as well. Someday, I will have to let him go, and he will be gone forever. I will never be able to fall asleep with his fur against my cheek... He will never follow me around the house again, his little tail in the eternal question-mark position... It will only be a memory.
All of this will be. This wonderful villa, these years of law school, of coming home each night to a wonderful, hilarious husband and three adorable kitties... of struggling month to month because we're poor and in love :-) Someday, this villa will be empty, and all of this only a dream, a spirit of the past. Just like our old 400-sq ft "apartment" in family housing at UF, with no closet and no hot water... In some ways, I feel part of my heart -- part of me, us -- will always be there, and when I return to visit, if I look hard enough, I will see us playing monopoly with our feet up on the futon b/c the air conditioner was leaking so bad the carpet was soaked... Or having our first kiss, which lasted four hours...
I've journaled before about a doll house my grandmother made for me. I played with it for hours every day as a girl, but it wasn't just a toy. It was an obsession. I wanted to *live* in my doll house. More than anything I could have ever desired, I wanted to be small enough to live in it, and I would pray that God would shrink me. Yet I knew it was not to be. It was not going to be reality. Reality was, I would not fit. Not then, not ever. But I yearned in my heart so deeply to live there, to exist in my little fantasy, I yearned for it like nothing anyone could ever imagine.
These memories, and those from the past, are gone, and will always be gone. No matter how hard I yearn to re-live them, they are Past, and will forever be there.
And someday, I shall be 80, just like my grandmother. Alone with only my memories to keep me company, waiting for the time to pass until I, too, shall only be a memory. I hope, deep in my heart, that maybe Heaven is a place where I can relive all of my favorite memories forever and ever...
And I think that time is a cruel, heartless monster.
The other night I was lying in bed, minding my own business, pondering middle school, when I realized that my best friend in middle school had a little sister - Mindy - who was three when I last saw her. We all loved her, held her, doted on her.
And now she's 15? FIFTEEN. She's in HIGH SCHOOL. She's older now than I was when I last saw her! I'm TWENTY FIVE. In double my life, they will be planning my 50th birthday party.
In 25 years, I will be my dad's age.
When my mother was my age, she had two children already.
I'm twenty five! *wails*
I used to say, "I'll have kids when I'm twenty seven or thirty or something." Um! That's TWO YEARS AWAY! What happened to it being TEN YEARS AWAY?
A few weeks ago I saw (apologies in advance to aged new mothers) an older lady who was pregnant. She was probably 37-40... and I thought, "I don't want to be an old mom!" I want to look cute in maternity clothes, sporty, and sophisticated. You know, hot mama material! But if I keep waiting, I will be an old mother :-( But I don't want to have children now. I'm too young! Why can't I push "pause" on life just for a few years? I still think I'm 19 and can't quite figure out what flashed by.
I also realized that 18 years isn't very long. :-( The life span of a child in his parents' home is almost nothing. Is it horrible to hold your young baby and know that in even one year he will be so much bigger... and in five, he'll start school? To know that time robs you of the moments and only leaves bittersweet memories? To wonder what happened to all those years of parenting which turned out only to be a blink, and then your child is moving off to college? That small, helpless infant you birthed and bathed, cuddled and clothed will forever only be a memory - and a fading one at that?
Where are these moments going, these moments that slip by like sand in my fingers? James and I have been together for almost THREE YEARS. My gosh... I remember when we were first dating and it seemed like two weeks was an endless amount of time. Six months seemed like an eternity. And here we are, old farts looking to the future together, holding hands and cracking stupid jokes. And even these moments are slipping through my fingers too quickly.
My grandmother speaks of her cat DollyPosh - a cat she had in the 70s or something. She always remembers her and talks about her, fondly relating memories of this or that... And as I hold Boo, I know his life span is short. I utterly adore that cat. He is my kindred-spirit kitty. He sleeps in my arms every night his face meshed in my hand, body pressed against mine, he gets his feelings hurt (and sulks!) if I ignore him. And I know someday he will only be a treasured memory stored away in my heart as well. Someday, I will have to let him go, and he will be gone forever. I will never be able to fall asleep with his fur against my cheek... He will never follow me around the house again, his little tail in the eternal question-mark position... It will only be a memory.
All of this will be. This wonderful villa, these years of law school, of coming home each night to a wonderful, hilarious husband and three adorable kitties... of struggling month to month because we're poor and in love :-) Someday, this villa will be empty, and all of this only a dream, a spirit of the past. Just like our old 400-sq ft "apartment" in family housing at UF, with no closet and no hot water... In some ways, I feel part of my heart -- part of me, us -- will always be there, and when I return to visit, if I look hard enough, I will see us playing monopoly with our feet up on the futon b/c the air conditioner was leaking so bad the carpet was soaked... Or having our first kiss, which lasted four hours...
I've journaled before about a doll house my grandmother made for me. I played with it for hours every day as a girl, but it wasn't just a toy. It was an obsession. I wanted to *live* in my doll house. More than anything I could have ever desired, I wanted to be small enough to live in it, and I would pray that God would shrink me. Yet I knew it was not to be. It was not going to be reality. Reality was, I would not fit. Not then, not ever. But I yearned in my heart so deeply to live there, to exist in my little fantasy, I yearned for it like nothing anyone could ever imagine.
These memories, and those from the past, are gone, and will always be gone. No matter how hard I yearn to re-live them, they are Past, and will forever be there.
And someday, I shall be 80, just like my grandmother. Alone with only my memories to keep me company, waiting for the time to pass until I, too, shall only be a memory. I hope, deep in my heart, that maybe Heaven is a place where I can relive all of my favorite memories forever and ever...
And I think that time is a cruel, heartless monster.