The Queens and I had the gift of today together and while we were running around playing, suddenly the sight of them laughing caught me off guard and sent me careening backwards, into yesteryear, my own sister by my side, a fall day shining down on us.
There was nothing particularly memorable about the day, nothing specific regarding the memory, but just for a moment, I could almost feel her beside me, her hand in mine, the way that she'd lean on me.
It struck me then, while I was lingering between what I thought would be and what is, that I've spent a lot of time thinking of what is to come, rather than focusing on what is now.
While we're eating dinner, my mind is packing Big A's lunch for the next day. While we're at the park, my mind is cooking supper, giving baths, signing homework logs. While we're reading books or painting toenails, my mind is scraping together mortgage payments and college funds, always on what lies ahead, rarely on what sits here.
Looking at The A's today and recalling so strongly my own childhood reminded me that while I'm still planning my tomorrows, I am also responsible for their today's. I want to make these days happy and secure and something they can reflect upon with a smile.
They didn't know me before I was "me," their mother. They don't know that one day, I too, laughed with my little sister and learned new games and had dreams of what life would be like when I was (gasp) old and thirty.
This person that they do know needs some serious work in the "living for today" department. She needs to remind herself to breathe deep and smell the flowers of today, instead of always worrying about how she's going to get the water to nourish them tomorrow.
She needs to focus on the sunshine a little more and the impending snow storm a little less.
And she's going to try, very, very hard to do so.
Wish her luck; she's going to need it.