When the words ‘Why don’t we all go to the park?’ were uttered, the moment was not lost on me. I told Sean to get his socks and shoes and I closed my Bullet Jounal, left a mess and got my things.
Because…what if this is the last time?
When the boys were younger, going to the park was a daily occurrence, practically a holy sacrement for many years. It was a necessity among all the other daily requirements.
But these days, this doesn’t happen. Ever. I am usually pleased when all 4 are just home, under my roof (so rare these days) at the same time.
The little cartoon devil and angel took up residence on my shoulders and whispered their own versions of the events in my ears.
Devil: This is it. One of the ‘lasts’. You might never see this again.
Angel: Sun. Laughter. Running children playing with each other. Soak it in because it’s one of life’s beautiful things.
Devil: Who knows if this will ever happen again.
Angel: Who knows if this will ever happen again.
The moment did not escape me. I grabbed it with both hands and reveled in it. I packed up this memory, carefully, and made sure I noted each and every detail.
Lately, I’ve been hit with the sentiment that goes something like, “Little kids, little problems, big kids….” So, maybe when the problems get too big, we can still solve them at the park.