As my mom says, “The days are long but the years are short.” As spring starts to finally reveal itself, I find myself realizing how true this is. Justin, Robbie, and I took a walk to the park yesterday and we passed many of the families on our street. The one with young children? Except now they’re in second and third grade. And my baby? Running down the sidewalk at break-neck speed. It just all seemed so… Wrong. I am supposed to be pushing a baby in a stroller. The neighborhood kids are supposed to still be in pre-school and kindergarten. I am still supposed to be in my twenties.
But, time goes on. Justin and I spent some time today on the front porch while Robbie took a nap looking back at our life in Boston – and speaking with nostalgia about our time in Georgia. I’m not sure when, exactly, we changed. I know it was gradual, the evolution of ourselves and our marriage. Some days I long for Warner Robins, for summers with cookouts and beers. For Friday nights at Margaritaville. For Sundays longing for an open liquor store – or even a restaurant that would serve it. Others, I think about how much easier life was when we rented an apartment. About how excited we were to move to Boston, all the adventures we had that first year here. And now, I look back to life in our house before Robbie was born. And when he was just a baby and the house was mostly still ours.
I would love to go back. Not to do anything different, but maybe just to enjoy it more. Relish being carefree. Take more time to enjoy Justin and the little family that was just the two of us. Savor the time when Robbie was just a baby and not a toddler, yearning for independence. And, maybe, that’s the real reason I blog. Just to be able to savor. To make the years a little longer, too. After all, how long will Robbie be yelling, “Ready! Ready!” while Justin and I scurry to get everything we need to head out the door. All the while, holding a sand shovel and my purse. Yeah, I think I’ll take the long days.