The Present

All in all, I LOVE summer.  I LOVE the warmer weather.  I LOVE the longer days.  I LOVE the sunshine on my shoulders.  And yes, I am quoting John Denver.  That guy knew exactly what time it was.

I mean, there are definite perks to this slower, lazier, paced time of year.  Mainly,  lack of rushing in the morning, because no one has to be anywhere.  Like, all day long.  

This lackadaisical schedule means less interrogation at our breakfast table.  For example, you most likely will not hear me ranting and raving at 7 AM on a summer morning,  "Have you brushed your teeth?  Have you made your bed?  Did you remember to pack your bike lock?  Do you know your address in case you get lost?"  If you're super duper lucky, and you happen to be a fly on the wall in Walsh Land during the school year, sometimes you will hear this song and dance repeat itself, oh, um, about FIVE times.

So many.  We have made them.  Like a small Army.  And it's all my fault.

But as with anything, there can also be a downside to summer.  Like kids not having to be anywhere alllll day looooong. Kids,  because there is no rush, will rise up, well rested after a full 10 hours of uninterrupted slumber, and are ready to "do something fun".  

 "MOM!!!" they yawn, upon waking, with a perky smile, and a fresh attitude, rubbing their eyes,  "What are we going to DO today?"  These offspring are hoping I'll say something that will completely blow their mind like,

"We are going to Disneyland!!!!  Can you fucking believe it?  WE ARE!  Daddy and I won the lottery, and because that is how much money it costs to go to Disneyland, that is the fun thing we are doing today!  We opted out of saving the lottery winnings for new shoes, or our mortgage payment, or college tuition, because Daddy and I are CRAZY like that!"

Sadly, my answer is more like this: "Survive the day, sister."

Enjoying a walk through The Glen, with some lovely friends the other evening, one said, "I think I do better with the school schedule.  There is more of a routine for my daughter and me."

And I thought about this for a minute, and I concurred with that point of view.  But as I am "getting older", I am beginning to fully understand how fast time goes.  And I immediately thought of my girls.  And how many more summers I have with them.

Not many.  Not enough.


This has been the summer of watching twin bookends sprouting up like beanstalks, to the point of practically surpassing me in height.

This has been the summer of Emma wanting to start babysitting, because she is great with little ones, and run track because she really and truly enjoys it.

This has been the summer of Cosette, asking if a friend can "join us" on any, and all day trips, but also thanking me profusely for just about everything, from making pancakes in the morning, to washing her hair in the tub at night.

This has been the summer when Charlotte, who's still wee yet, will tumble down the hall in the early morning, with a head full of red hair going every which way, and climb into bed for a little snuggle.

How many mornings do I have left of this lopsided preschooler bed head, who climbs into my bed, to literally burrow into my body?

 Not many.  Not enough.

As I drove over the hill to take the girls to the beach yesterday, Holy Cross Church came into view.  Sixteen years ago, on that very day, I married the most kind hearted and gentle man on the planet, in that very church.

 In all honesty, I think it's sort of a good thing that most of us have absolutely NO idea, of what we are in for, when we choose to marry our beloved.

Dating is fun.  Planning a wedding is fun.  Having children is "fun".   Having to watch a sick parent suffer at times throughout the illness and at the end...not fun.

Difficult times will either draw you toward, or away from your spouse.  And although Tom and I are far from perfect, I truly love him so very dearly.  And I started to reflect on many things about my wedding day.

My sweet Mama riding in the fancy Bentley next to me, on our way to the church.  Foxy and my Dad walking me down the aisle, each with a megawatt smile that could power a small city.  Father Mike blessing Tommy and Katie during the ceremony, because now, we were officially a united family.  And my Auntie, sewing me into my wedding dress on the way to the reception.  Mainly, because when you're  built like The Hulk, and bend over to release doves, there is a distinct possibility of your wedding dress ripping down the back, like not in a good way.

And then the tears came.  All at once.  It was such a blessed day.  And it is one that I'll never be able to relive again.  Foxy won't be riding shot gun with me anymore.  And Tommy and Katie are married and each have beautiful babies of their own.  And Auntie? Well, she is still kind enough to sew for me...and keep Charlotte alive most days while I am working.

Passing that church was a concrete reminder that there is no going back...only forward.  It was a reminder that  I so dearly yearn to hug my Mom one more time.  And it was a reminder that in times of struggle, I can feel her around, proud that I am her daughter.

And all it makes me think of is this:  how much time do we have left here?

Not much.  Not enough.

But I'll tell you what...when I see our grand daughter, Ella,  tomorrow, I will smooch on her, and love on her, and pick her adorable bones clean.

And our family will have an amazing visit in San Diego with Tommy and Molly.  And when it is time to leave them, I will bawl.  That's just how I roll.  And as we drive away, my heart will swell with pride.  And I will embrace that moment.

Because nothing is promised.   Nothing.