The other day three-year-old Michaela was learning how to ride her bike up our steep driveway. She was wearing one of her favorite outfits these days: fuschia T-shirt and pants equally dark pink. It was a hot day, a sunny spring morning, and the color of her clothes reminded me of raspberry sherbet.
As I helped push her uphill, I thought of ice cream. Sitting outside on a summer day eating a scoop of ice cream in a cone. Watching and catching the drips with my tongue. Racing to eat it before the sun melts it. Savoring that last crunch of cone with the last drops of ice cream. Wondering where it went.
There are moments of motherhood like ice cream. Like eating a raspberry sherbet cone while sitting outside on a sunny day. It’s intense. It’s slow and sweet. And then, before I know it, it’s gone.
Too soon, I’ll wonder where it went. My years of mothering three girls will disappear. I’ll be savoring that last crunch of cone. That last drop of liquid. Then all I’ll have will be memories to remind me of these triple-scoop sherbet-cone sunny summer days.
1 response so far ↓
1 Katherine // Apr 3, 2004 at 2:46 am
Great perspective. I’ve been thinking lately how Jason is halfway to 18. Emily is halfway to the age of being able to exercise with me at Curves (have to be 12). We only have a few years to give a lot of input…When we visited Washington D.C. last week we discovered Emily had just turned old enough to be allowed entrance to the Senate Gallery with the rest of us. One has to be six. Passages! This post was a welcome reminder to enjoy each day for all its worth.