There is nothing that gets you feeling more nostalgic than cleaning out the attic. I was cleaning out my attic the other day and I came across a box with maternity items in it including a brochure about breastfeeding and a well used manual breast pump. There were also maternity clothes, a few bibs, and a "boo-boo bunny" fashioned out of a washcloth. I held the bunny to my cheek. I had never used it with my children as it had been held captive all these years in this box. Then there was the bag tied with curled ribbons. It held all the cards I had received to say congratulations for having my babies. I opened one of the cards. It was from a dear friend from years ago who has since passed away.
I sat in my hallway with these things, remnants of a time of my life which will never come again. And then the tears came.
I am not sure what it is about reviving old memories but sometimes you not only unsettle the dust but emotions too. All of sudden I felt like one of the actors on stage in an "Our Town" play desperate to inquire, "Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?-every, every minute?" It seems a blur doesn't it? Sometimes I feel like Rip Van Winkle. Periodically I go to sleep and then awaken to find that everything has changed.
There must be some metaphysical trick of time passing more quickly as you grow older. When I was a child waiting for summer or a holiday seemed an eternity. Now it seems that it is that much harder to hold onto moments. They pass with such rapid speed that I cannot catch up. Some days I want to lie in an open field and watch the ants crawl by. I want to observe the slow drip of water from my faucet until it plunges to the drain below. I want to watch the almost imperceptible dance of light and shadow as the breeze blows through a leafy awning of trees. Once I enjoyed the whir and chaos of a frenzied life. Now I want to capture time like fireflies in a jar.
But it just doesn't work that way does it? Time does go forward and despite our reservations we must go with it.
The time for babies is over for me. I have long since lost my need for breast pumps or maternity wear. My children, budding teenagers, will never be the cherub faced pot bellied toddlers they once were. Isn't it something that we always mourn what used to be? It is so easy to romanticize things after much time has passed. Do I really miss morning sickness, the pain of labor, and getting no sleep for weeks with no end? Well no, not exactly. But there is sadness of closing the door to a very special part of my life. One doesn't say it out loud but there is something about the words, "never again" which reminds us of our own mortality. What other things might I never do again? What things might I never get to do at all?
