As the years go by, it seems that the number of personal or family photos I post gradually dwindles, almost to a trickle. The everyday adventures of the early years of parenting seem at first to burst forth like an open dam. The memory of every dimple and smile , first laugh , first taste , first step , first fall , first penance , first tragedy , first friend, first day of school ... feels so fleeting and precious, I want to hold on to each one for as long as possible. The long days begin to quicken in their momentum, and soft little chubby arms encircling my neck soon extend into long lean muscled limbs resting heavily around my shoulders. I don't have to hold their hand any more when we cross the street. But they hold mine. L ove's pain grows sweeter with each passing hour, day, and year. A fleeting image captured of a moment, pales in comparison to the truth of everything it means. Some things are just too good. " ...I never tell them about our lives. You know why? ...
"What would you like to do for Mother's Day?" hubby asked. Easy. Just us four. A lazy afternoon at the park. Sausages sizzling on the BBQ, kids running around, and me with a cup of tea that I might actually get to drink while it's still hot. As the years inch by, my babies have outgrown the playground. But they still love a good romp and game, inventing new ways to nearly knock each other out with a ball. Leaning back in my camp chair, I slowly sip my tea and watch them toss a ball back and forth. They’re grinning, laughing, and testing out increasingly ridiculous ways to throw the ball. It’s part dodgeball, part interpretive dance. This is my slice of joy I savour today. In a few short years, I don’t know if they’ll still play like this. But for now, just like this, they can still be my babies for a little while longer.