I have a problem. No matter what season it is, at some point, I start dreaming of and wishing it to be the next season. In November, I'm excited about Christmas. By January, I'm dreaming of spring. After a few nice days with no coat, I'm ready for summer.
And, of course. . . by July, I am looking forward to fall.
It started today because I am feeling the itch to buy some cute new clothes for Kate, and she already has enough for summer. Kate had some of the cutest outfits last fall (most of which I bought all in one lot on eBay--$280 worth of clothes for only $32, including shipping!) I'm dreaming of school supplies and pumpkins. I'm thinking of the cool, crisp air and picturing myself in a long, chunky sweater with toggle-buttons, eating chili to the soundtrack of football on Sunday afternoon.
For a long time, I not only looked a season ahead on the calendar, but in life. I couldn't wait to get married, to get a house, to have babies. . . I once doodled an abstract rendering of things I love, things that define me. Amidst the pencil, the palette, the cross, the book, I drew an arrow going backward and an arrow going forward--symbolizing the past and the future, things I invested much mental energy daydreaming about. My friend with whom I shared the doodle had to ask: "What about the present?"
I hadn't even thought of that. I loved to reminisce about special times, and I loved to imagine things I hoped for in the future. But living in the present I was not so good at. It's something I've worked to do better at--just enjoying the moment and celebrating the stage of life that I am currently in, rather than always focusing on the receding horizon. Having Kate has helped me break this habit to some extent. I don't want to wish away a moment with her, much less half a season, or a whole season of life.
1 comment:
I have the same problem and a similar revelation with Becca this week. I want to soak up every little thing about her at this age before we move on...but we're always moving on, and never at the right speed.
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