It hasn’t been my best week, and I’m not sure why. Every day I recognize my blessings. Things could be a whole lot worse, and yet some days, I fight to pick myself up by my bootstraps (do they make those anymore?) and move on.
And then some days I see pictures like this, and I wonder where the last 20 years of my life have flown off to.
It kills me thinking these days are over, never to return. I miss baby hugs. I miss chubby arms and missing sneakers and “My mom’s pretty cool” and “Meadowade, peas.” (Ryan couldn’t say lemonade for the longest time.) And tell me, does the kid on the left with that gorgeous smile look the least bit autistic to you? 🙂
I try to remind myself that there are wonderful days ahead. Wonderful things. Firsts. Songs. Joy. Wonder. Dreams as yet unimagined.
Friends sometimes post “remember the good old days” stuff on Facebook and I can’t stand it. Rotary dial phones and speakers from drive-in movies. Ladies, please; you posted that from your iPad. I remember the Billy Joel lyrics, “The good old days weren’t always good, and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.” I mean really, would anyone want to go back to the days of belted maxi pads? I wasn’t even there and I wouldn’t want to go back to that. 🙂
I guess it’s because I don’t often look back, that pictures like that one take me by surprise. I don’t feel old. Hell, I’m training for a half marathon.
I guess this is what it means to be middle aged. You’re too old to have kids and not ready to have grandkids.
On a personal note, rest in peace, Manfred Liebner. You were my uncle and yet I feel like I hardly knew you. We always think we have one more day to fix things or do better, but sometimes we don’t. I miss your laughter already.