Sunday, July 10, 2011

Time and what it means to me.

Time. We all watch it, most of us fight it, but we are as aware of it as we are our reflections in the mirror - again, most more than others.  History and ad-campaigns use time as an advertisement.  Movies, songs even Hallmark cards and others use the word. But I wonder about how we count time.

Sure there are seconds, minutes and hours. Even days, weeks, years, but I mean how do we mark it?  I use events in my life to mark the passing.  You know…Daniy turned two the year we moved to Dresden.  Jason burnt his hand the year we remolded the kitchen (necessity that, he nearly burnt down the kitchen). We moved to the house on Main Street the year Paul got the snot beat out of him by that boy. 

There are other things too, marked by tragedy or mirth.  Hubby and I had to spend the night in a rest stop on our wedding night because when they decorated our car, they messed up something under the hood.  We consider that both, by the way.

But, no matter how much I try, I can’t think of a single thing that happened the years that my children were born.  Their birth and the beauty of it outweighs all else.

Paul is our oldest.  He is singly the oddest person I know.  With his wife, Dale and daughter Sarah he is loving, kind, funny and witty. His daughter is his image in mannerisms and speech.  She can cut you to the quick faster than a snake bite.  (She gets that from mom too.)  Paul makes me laugh at myself and he can make me feel loved and cherished faster than anyone I’ve ever know. 

Jason, our second son is competitive.  I guess most of us are, but Jason makes me want to be better than I am. He has never made me feel as though I wasn’t good enough nor has he ever made me feel bad. In fact, Jason in his own way makes me feel better about myself than the rest of them.  His wife Wendy and children Trinny and Kian make him grin at stupid things. Kian is just like him, goofy and loving.  Trinny keeps him steady.  And Wendy loves him, that’s as important to me as my love for him.

Daniy. What can I say about my daughter?  She’s smart, loving, sarcastic, rude, humble, funny, artistic, talented, and wonderful and mine.  I see what I wish I was in her.  She has four children, Gavin and Kelly by birth and Bubby and Spring by marriage – though honestly I don’t think she sees the difference.  She loves them all as staunchly as a mother bear and her cubs.

The year I married my husband, Sonny is huge too. I can think of many things that happened in 1977. Our first apartment, our first jobs, buying household things all jockey for fond memories.  We purchased our big furniture – couch, bed, dressers.  All of our apartments until then had been furnished and we moved to a townhouse and had our own things. 

So time.  How do I mark it?  With loving memories, deaths and births, tragedy and laughter.  I make more memories every day - every minute now it seems.  Some things I hold dearer than others but each one I can count on to make me remember other things.   The way it should be.

The grandkids make the marking time seem to go by faster for me.  But getting older isn’t as bad as I ever thought it would be. I have family and friends, love and laughter. I have things I never dreamed of having, a loving husband, children who respect me.  

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