The Children Are Almost Too Big To Carry

Another Sunday morning and the start of another week. One of the joys of blogging is learning about myself. That may sound ridiculous, but I don’t think that many people take the time to try and listen to their inner being. What I mean is that in our busy lives we forget to stop and consider ourselves. What makes us tick? What makes us happy? What makes us sad?

Blogging provides an outlet for me to do that. I know that Elul makes me feel unsettled. I know that the end of summer bothers me. There is so much more that I know and much to learn. Not to beat the horse to death, but I think that my life is fuller from the experience.

Last night there was an impromptu family gathering. Grandparents, great-grandparents, grandchildren and an aunt or two met for a family meal. It was nice and at the same time a little strange. It was the first gathering without the big lug who patrolled the dinner table. His presence or should I say his absence was glaring. I kept waiting for someone to slam into my chair in search of a fallen treat. And this was the first time that the children really vocalized their thoughts.

There were some tears and a lot of questions about where dogs go when they die. There were requests for a new dog. My daughter told my folks that she doesn’t like a house without a doggie. My son told her not to worry because Grandpa would never own a house without a dog. It made me smile, wistfully.

Eventually the evening ended and the kids were packed up, loaded into the car and shipped home. When we arrived at the house I took a moment to listen to the silence in the car. Soft snoring was punctuated by the occasional mumble and sigh.

Outside the heatwave continued. It was after 10 but the temperature was still more than 90 degrees. As I carried the little girl into the house I snorted and tried not to cough as her curls rubbed against my nose. Yesterday it was a simple thing to do. She fit in the nook of one arm, no bigger than a football I could wander for hours and not notice her weight.

She is still small enough that I can carry her around, but not so little that I no longer notice her weight. Now as I carry her I have to be more careful because she is a restless sleeper and has a proclivity for throwing her body around.

The big boy is a different story. It feels like years since he was truly little. Now when I carry him I feel his head on my shoulder and his feet against my thighs. Every time they bang against me it serves as notice that it won’t be long before he’ll truly be too big to carry this way. It is bittersweet because I know that a part of his childhood is ending and a new one beginning.

Sometimes time moves far too quickly.

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