Rush vs. Pause

Not so long ago, I wished for things to pass more quickly:

The nights of teething.
The days when I wanted them to:
Start being independent:
Sit,
Walk,
Eat.

It feels like just recently I really wanted
them to fall asleep faster.
For the lullaby or bedtime story not to drag on too long.
For them to play on their own.
To learn to handle a spoon and fork by themselves.
To start talking and tell me what they want, instead of bursting into tears when I couldn’t guess.
To start going to kindergarten / school sooner.
To be able to dress themselves.
Put on their shoes.
Tidy up their things.

For so long, I wanted “faster.”
And now suddenly, everything has come full circle.
Now I want “slower.”

Stay, beautiful moment—
when they come and hug you.
When they climb onto your lap like little bears.
When their not-so-little arms still wrap around you.
When, in a childlike way, they answer your “I love you” with “I love you more.”
When they can fall asleep without stories, but still gladly listen to them—
or tell them to each other.

Stay, beautiful moment—
when they still greet every suggestion of a family trip with wild excitement.

They:
Pick mushrooms,
Pick berries,
Fish,
Swim—
Together.

When they believe in you unconditionally
and want to be “like Mom” or “like Dad.”
When they don’t yet have role models you yourself don’t believe in or question.
When they become friends to one another…

And suddenly, without even noticing,
you feel a BIG, ROUND FEAR in your heart—
that when “faster” ends,
and “slower” passes…
you no longer know what comes “next.”

Stay, beautiful moment,
and just be.

V.

And now, the “real deal”:

I’m showing the kids photos dug up from my phone archive.

—Look, Do!
—Yeah… what’s this?
—You!
—Me??? And who am I hugging here? My sister????
Seriously?

He brings the phone close to his nose and starts shouting:
—Patrikai, Patrikai, look how yoooou… like your “little doll”!!!

I’d like to think we don’t age.
But looking at them, I understand—
we actually do.

Now it’s really the end.