From time to time

From time to time I revisit a blog and touch base with the past.  Sometimes the words make me squirm and I wonder why I thought those thoughts were worthy of sharing and I’m embarrassed.  I see a million ways I could have expressed myself better, written better.  Other times the words give me pause and I wonder who actually wrote them.  Sometimes, just sometimes, they hit my heart with such a thump I’m surprised I was ever capable of putting words to those feelings.  And then I realize that I probably didn’t, sometimes the words are a gift.

A year ago I wrote about tucking one of my granddaughters into bed on the eve of her seventh birthday.  I re-read that post this morning and thought about the year that has passed since then – all the change, all the growth – and I felt a moment of pause.  Something ‘out there’ had gifted me those words and in the quiet of that evening I suddenly understood why time stops for no one.

From time to time I get smacked with a message from the universe, usually when I least expect it.  I think that force sent me back to re-read that post again this morning – I needed a reminder.  I needed to acknowledge that we’ve come a long way from that birthday eve a year ago.  I needed to remember that even while I’m trying so hard to stop time others are anxiously anticipating tomorrow.

So this is my thank you note to the universe for those words and for realizing that I need a reminder from time to time.

The reflective post re-posted….

A sentimental moment (December 9, 2018)

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 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.