These days. One more

| 23 Comments

These are the days when I want just one more minute.

Of sleep.

Of thought.

Of writing.

Of being.

Just one more minute to get the words out. Complete a thought.

One more minute nestled between the covers, mind wandering in a dream. One more minute of conversation before the needing and the wanting consume the quiet space. One more minute to take a deep breath before the next minute comes and I’ll need the calm that one deep breath can bring.

These are the days when I want just one more hour.

Of play.

And work.

And cuddles.

And living.

Just one more hour to fit more in. To feel accomplished. To feel satiated.

Just one more hour and I’d finish that post. Write that article. Start that project. One more hour and I’d feel like I gave them my all. Left it all on the field. One more hour and I’d feel like I got my fill of loving them.

These are the days when I want just one more day.

Of weekends.

Of this time.

And of the time that came before.

When he was brand new. When she was little and dependent. When she cried when I left the room. When he and I spent our mornings and afternoons together. Before school and friends and peers. When her life was baby simple.

girl and fence

And of the time that came before that.

When it was just us. Just us two. Traveling and wandering and living in the way of that time. Drinks with friends in the evenings and coffee in bed until noon.

Just one more day.

These are the days when I want one more. I want to hold on.

When I notice her long, big-kid limbs and the way she runs now, she doesn’t toddle. When I notice her voice and realize that her toddler-speak has smoothed out into eloquently flowing words and phrases. When she frees her hand from my grasp and runs to the park so fast I couldn’t possibly keep up. When she throws herself into everything she does and I know she’ll continue to throw herself at life, at bigger and more amazing things, and I’ll always be running to catch up.

running in backyard

When my heart aches as I walk past the empty spot, next to my bed, where his bassinet stood. When I serve fruits and veggies into his open and eager mouth, remembering that just the other day he was sustained by me and me alone. When I watch his back strengthen as he tries to sit and I know that sitting will soon turn to crawling and crawling to walking. When I know what’s happening here, I know the path he is on because I’ve seen it before and I know it leads away from me in the most beautiful and heartbreaking way.

baby feet3

These are the days that are so very long but somehow still fly by so mind-blowing-ly fast. The days when I’m struggling to make it to bedtime and wishing I could just close my eyes for a few minutes before dinner and oh my goodness will this day not end? But then, is he really another month older already? And has it really been a week since I last wrote? A month since I had an hour alone? Two since we went out on a date? She is three and a half and how is that possible?

These are those days.

They drag in lightening speed.

And I’m holding on.

And running to catch up.

And wishing for more.

23 Comments

  1. Pingback: Blogger promotion, Writer's Presence and Discoveries

  2. Pingback: Thirty Years and One Day | The Fierce Diva Guide to Dating

  3. Pingback: Meet the DC Cast: Tricia Mirchandani

Leave a Reply

Required fields are marked *.


CommentLuv badge