A Sentimental Moment

If I could put the brakes on time I would. I’d stop the clock and hang around for a while longer in this day or yesterday or a year ago. I’d look a little closer at the details, the tiny things that make life sparkle, the glitter. I’d study the stuff that drifts in and out of a moment, the split second before a laugh.  I’d linger on a sigh.

I tucked my six year old granddaughter into bed last night, on the eve of her seventh birthday. She had trouble getting to sleep, the excitement of meeting the morning as a seven year old was almost too much to take. We read a story and talked for a while.  We tried to remember highlights of previous years; walks on beaches, holidays,  parties.  We talked about family and people we love – and then she drifted off to sleep for the last time as a six year old and I felt the urge to put the brakes on time again.

 I’ve lived a life in nostalgia, even as a child I was inclined to look over my shoulder and pine for days gone by.  New Years Eve always felt more like an ending than a beginning.  Even birthdays leaned more toward melancholy than merry. I’ve always hated putting Christmas to bed.

I stood for a moment at the foot of her bed – in her sleeping face I saw shades of the baby she used to be, glimpses of her father when he was a little boy and even a whisper of myself at seven years old.  I studied the past in her peaceful face and tried to imagine her dreams. She is pointed excitedly at the future – everything she is hoping for is in her tomorrows, I felt a little guilty for wanting to stop time just before her leap into all that promise.

I did stop time for that moment though – I studied the glitter and gave a quiet thanks to the universe for the gifts of the past, the promise of tomorrow and the blessing that is today.  And I whispered happy birthday to a soon to be seven year old.