I wrestled with every minute of yesterday; we were at war. I needed the minutes to fly by, I needed easy; yet, the minutes were stubborn, dragging their heavy feet. I counted the seconds, bedtime could not come soon enough, but of course the little people resisted. I needed room to breathe. I nursed, I read, I snuggled, and I continued counting. The day refused to end.
Three of my four babies…
My children insisted on consuming every inch of space around me. I was annoyed. Thankfully by nine in the evening, the little people started to fade. I managed to snuggle one to sleep. Then Amelie crawled into her brother’s arms–oh my heart–suddenly I stopped counting. The minutes, the seconds, I wasted–counting. I realized in that moment the utter wealth I had had around me, I took a breath, and savored the fleeting moment with my growing babies.
…And minutes later we slept.
“Clocks slay time…time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life”