With Age Comes….?

Today I ate almost an entire loaf of Italian bread. I should mention that it actually wasn’t Italian, it was a French loaf, but, it is the bread I have bought for years, and served when I make sauce. I try to make sauce every week, but life gets in the way.

So. Life.

One day I was in labor, for all of two hours. The next I was dancing with that kid at his wedding. It is still all a blur.

Labor was quick. Colic lasted for a million years. And all the stuff in between? The good, the bad, and the ugly. Yeah, it was all that, but it was beautiful and precious, and I’d give anything to go back.

I was frying up meatballs today and, even knowing it wasn’t going to happen, waited for my son to come in and grab a few. I closed my eyes and smiled at the memory, then got a little teary. He lives 1200 miles away. He’s married. He wasn’t grabbing meatballs even if he wanted to.

It goes so fast. The colic, teaching him to tie his shoes, vacuuming up the cheerios, wiping up the juice boxes, the bedtime stories, the million kisses goodnight, breaking up the fights with his brother, loving the way he always adored his sister, the phone calls from the school, the phone calls from the school, the phone calls……

A week ago I danced with my son at his wedding. He picked a song that I’d play when he was younger. We danced to it often, me, his brother, his sister. It was our song, the song of our family. We danced and then his brother came up, his father, his father’s fiancee, her daughter. And like that it was over.

Today I made sauce. I fried up meatballs and waited for my son to come grab some. I held up my wooden spoon ready to smack him away before putting it down and wishing like anything for another day for him to be here, fighting with his brother, obeying his sister, and just, well, just having one more day of him and them, being my kids, only my kids and nothing else.

I danced with my son at his wedding last week. He’s happy. That’s all a mother ever wants, but, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him, all of his childhood, all of the moments that led up to our dance. It came flooding back today as I cooked. And I ate a loaf of Italian, well really French bread.

There is so much to look forward to, but today I was thinking about how fast life goes by. One day they’re babies who never sleep. Then they’re toddlers who are wrecking your house. Next they’re horrendous teenagers, well, I’ll spare you, and then you’re dancing at their wedding, and they’re gone.

Enjoy every minute. Love them. Eat the bread!

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