When I'm Old

7.15.09

God willing. I'll climb into a hammock between two century-old oak trees. My Sweets at my side. And I'll think back to when our children were small. It won't be the holidays or birthdays or big to-dos that will spring to mind. It'll be this. The every day. The simple routine of our lives. The Radio Flyer tricycle Buby pedaled down to the river 4,325 times. The look of wonder and awe on his face each time a white butterfly fluttered by us or a jet left tracks in the sky. The bounce in Bleu's step as she ran too fast for her own two legs, always trying to keep up with her big brother. The huge gap between her two front teeth. The hats we never left home without. The way Buby backed into my lap and wrapped my arms around his waste. The never ending stack of books. The tenderness of a nursing baby. The gentle rocking back to sleep. The joy I felt in my heart at day's end. The whisper of "I love you" in the dark. The promise of more of the same.