Just A Moment

I had a moment today.

Time is flying by.  Or perhaps I have reached that age where time has become more precious.   I never thought time was flying by when I was younger.   Time couldn't go fast enough for me when I still had all the major milestones ahead of me:   a first job, my first apartment, marriage, a house, kids.  

Most of the time I don't think about time, not consciously anyway.   In our daily lives time warps and contorts into little bits and pieces, and there never seems to be enough of it.   We're always rushing:  to get out the door, to get to various activities and errands.   We live in an era that moves at warp speed, where instant gratification takes too long.  I found myself cursing at my computer yesterday because it was slow to load.   I was tapping my fingers impatiently, muttering away, trying to order my groceries online - online! - and things just weren't moving fast enough for me.    I was cramming my virtual shopping in between dropping Greta off somewhere and getting to the post office before it closed.    I spend my day with an unconscious mantra running through my head:  hurry, hurry, hurry.

We hardly ever just stop.  When I wake up and I don't have every inch of the day planned, I get itchy.    Today is a cold, dark, rainy day.   A perfect day to snuggle in and play with Finn.    Instead, I found myself pacing about my kitchen, thinking through all the things I just had to get done:   the gym, the bead store, the bank, make jewelry, the post office.   I can't get it all done, I thought.   

And then Finn padded up to me in his little footie pajamas, his blanket trailing behind him like Linus.    "What special thing are we going to do today, Momma?"  he asked.   And time just stopped.    I had one of those moments, where he suddenly appeared to me, this real boy, my son, and I thought:  how did he get so big?   

It is as if I don't know how to operate if I'm not under pressure.   Somehow I associate being chronically busy with importance, relevance.    There is plenty of time.   Plenty of time to snuggle and play, plenty of time to get the errands done.    And the world won't stop revolving if I don't get to everything, I would just like to think it would, because in some bizarre way that makes me think I matter. 

I plunked down on the floor and hugged him.  "What special thing would you like to do today?"  I asked.

"I want to play a game wif you,"  he said.  "When you're done wif your work."   

"How about now?"  I said.  "How about playing a game now?"   

He beamed, and ran to get Ned's Head, his favorite game.     I watched him run, soaking in the very boyness of him, trying to preserve the moment in my mind.    I never take time to just see him.    It is as if his image slips and slides in front of me, morphing from the baby he was to the grown man he will become.  

But right now?   He's four and a half and he loves me without question and it is incredible.    

Right now is pretty incredible.