and just like that, the time keeps going.
It's such a strange paradox, to experience time as a mother.
The days are long, laborious, and repetitive. My mornings are filled with finding socks and packing lunches. I fill the same coffee cup, drive the same thirty miles, and sit in the same classes. Drive back the same way.. Evenings are filled with writing numbers and letters. Gathering up hats and gloves in order to ride bikes quickly before I must start dinner. Again.
bath, books, bed. wash, rinse, repeat.
When the alarm goes off at 6:24, and the house is dark and quiet, it seems like it will be an eternity before I'm able to lay my head back down to breathe in the warm air of sleep. But before I know it, the house is dark and quiet again.
wash, rinse, repeat.
I looked at Christian today and he looked six years old. He's been six since October, but today, I looked at him and he looked six. It made my heart ache a little bit. I think about how quickly these years have gone by. I think about another six years passing and my heart ache sharpens from a dull grief to a sharp panic.
I'm not ready. I need to prepare for what will happen. I need to prepare for how to be a mother to bigger boys, boys who are are ten, eleven, twelve... I need it to slow down, so I can savor every bit of magic that lingers in the length of these days. I need to remember that days are long but years are short and it's vital not to get swallowed up by the monotony.
Whether I'm ready or not, the time will move.
We'll ride bikes a tad longer tomorrow, the bath isn't going anywhere.
Until next time,
Carmen
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