Every moment of calm sweetness, of laughter, of smiling so boldly your cheeks begin to ache is accompanied by a moment thereafter, or perhaps within that moment that brings it back down to earth. That roots it. A sense of realism clouds my bliss. This is not to say that I don't experience immeasurable joy--that I don't sing my heart out, let go of my inhibitions, or feel each moment for what it is, but as I roll down a a grassy hill with my oldest son, crunchy, golden leaves entangling themselves in our hair and sweaters, I feel a strange pang in my heart. With his head thrown back as we reach the bottom, his laughter erupts from the bottom-most part of his stomach and I stare in awe at his ashy-blonde hair that used to be white. I see jagged bones under almost-too-tight clothing; ragged holes in the knees of his jeans--scars, skin stretched over a larger frame. I am enamored with the moment, with this beautiful boy that used to be so small, so soft, so fragile. But accompanying the collection of wonderful, beautiful, loving, and upbeat notes of the waltz that is our life are the somber, pensive and somehow sorrowful slower notes of our life's sonata playing beneath the surface of our lives.
The finitude that is this moment. The knowledge that, however beautiful, these days are fleeting. A blink and he's almost six. Another blink and there will be no more heart-achingly sweet moments of romping around in leaf piles, wrapping our fingers in each other's hair as we reach the bottom of a steep hill, surrounded by sunshine and crisp, cool air. And time passes.
The finitude that is this moment. The knowledge that, however beautiful, these days are fleeting. A blink and he's almost six. Another blink and there will be no more heart-achingly sweet moments of romping around in leaf piles, wrapping our fingers in each other's hair as we reach the bottom of a steep hill, surrounded by sunshine and crisp, cool air. And time passes.
Bliss isn't here. Because just as the Autumn leaves turn brightly, they, too, will fall. The trees are left barren and cold. It's not that it wasn't beautiful, that the moment wasn't anything and everything, but it couldn't stay. Not forever. So, what then?
We let our hearts ache. In the most beautiful and painful ways. We soak up that moment spent at the foot of the hill, wrapped up in our almost-bliss, and then we press forward. But these are our moments, and sometimes we get lost in them. Sometimes we are there, on the brink of bliss, and that sorrowful pang doesn't strike our hearts and realism doesn't cloud our view of the moment. Those moments are cherished, tucked within the confines of our hearts in the place where memories go to flourish, to be relived when we are grey and those moments unfold no longer.
But time still passes, seconds ticking, as we stare at the slow-falling of leaves and the blanket of gold upon cold, hard ground awaiting their arrival. But...it's okay. Because that's the nature of the near-bliss moments: they fill you up, warm you heart, and bring you joy. And if you can tap into them, I mean really tap into them and feel them for what they are, then you're as close to bliss as you will ever be here on this earth where time passes both slowly and quickly. Because light is accompanied by dark, happiness by sorrow...and if we can feel them both respectively and still keep our heads held high as our babies turn into children into men...then we are doing just fine.
We let our hearts ache. In the most beautiful and painful ways. We soak up that moment spent at the foot of the hill, wrapped up in our almost-bliss, and then we press forward. But these are our moments, and sometimes we get lost in them. Sometimes we are there, on the brink of bliss, and that sorrowful pang doesn't strike our hearts and realism doesn't cloud our view of the moment. Those moments are cherished, tucked within the confines of our hearts in the place where memories go to flourish, to be relived when we are grey and those moments unfold no longer.
But time still passes, seconds ticking, as we stare at the slow-falling of leaves and the blanket of gold upon cold, hard ground awaiting their arrival. But...it's okay. Because that's the nature of the near-bliss moments: they fill you up, warm you heart, and bring you joy. And if you can tap into them, I mean really tap into them and feel them for what they are, then you're as close to bliss as you will ever be here on this earth where time passes both slowly and quickly. Because light is accompanied by dark, happiness by sorrow...and if we can feel them both respectively and still keep our heads held high as our babies turn into children into men...then we are doing just fine.
I'm wearing Dexter in a Sakura Bloom Chambray in 'Black Currant'.
(From our family day to the Pumpkin Patch and dinner at one of our favorite spots for Pizza)
(From our family day to the Pumpkin Patch and dinner at one of our favorite spots for Pizza)
