These slow and fast days, they are so bittersweet. Every minute is endless and then suddenly another year is gone by.
We try to record the important things, but how to know which memory will mean the most in the end?
Sometimes we drift along in a daze of domestic duties and then a song, or a photo or a smell or a piece of clothing will jolt us roughly into the present and we will notice that their baby rolls are almost gone, and their knuckles are losing their dimples and their voices are deepening.
And then, in an instant they are less child, more adult. And we wonder where our baby went.
Today, I found Faye’s very first bloomers and bonnet that I made when she was 3 months old and it hit me that soon she will be two, Robin will be 5, Hugo will be 8 and Cohen will be 9. And then on and on, so slow and so fast. Too fast. Always too fast.
It made me think that “only yesterday” is really such a very long time ago…