Maybe it's because the house is quiet, and I can actually hear my own thoughts. Mabe it's because last week's flowers are well past wilted. Or maybe it's because I have the Bon Iver station playing on my Pandora station, but man, I'm feeling all the feels.
One thing I didn't expect about parenthood, and being a mother to little people, is that childhood is all about stages. Some stages seem to end as quickly as they began. Some stages feel like they will never, ever, end. Some stages make you so happy that you almost want to hold your breath because already you know it's fleeting, and if you exhale, it will be over. Some stages seem easy and rosy and good. Some stages are dark, sludgy, and you go to bed laying with your eyes wide open, wondering how you'll make the sun shine in the morning. And some stages are invisible ones. Ones that you didn't even notice were there until you've already left them behind.
But this. This right here. I don't know what I would call this stage, except that it brings so much joy to my heart. I feel that lump in my throat thinking about how one day, I'll have to search deep into the sacred place where I hold my fondest memories to remember the scent of his skin and the quiet sounds he makes as he nurses. I'll close my eyes and try desperately to remember the way Pato gently brushes his hair to the side a hundred times a day. And I'll never want to forget how much I love to peek at S when she's working hard at making something. She will often quietly sing a made-up song as she works with her little hands, and giggles when she catches me watching her.
I don't have a time machine to stop time. I don't have the guarantee that I'll remember every single second of my children' lives. But, I do have a grateful heart. I very, very grateful heart. There is nowhere else I would rather be.