September Eve

The months are sliding by, bleeding into one another in shades of color, amazing me with their quickness. I am aware of changing seasons, lengthening limbs and growing minds. I’m torn between being appreciative and satisfied with what I have and with believing I must dream and want for more.

I’m fine.

Here’s a rare snap of me and my babies. I use the term with endearment. It does not escape me that my babies are growing up. One day, God willing, they will all be taller than me.

I’ll be their little momma. I’ll be wrinkled, peaceful and happy. Maybe I’ll be a best-selling author. I’ll mentor whoever lets me. In short, I’ll be me, but to borrow from the PBS slogan, I’ll “be more.”

Tonight, on this September eve, at this moment in time, I am sated. This day has been full; I have lived it well. My children are all asleep, my hubby is watching a strange, artsy movie on TV (but in the kitchen now for his snack), and I’m running my typical communication headquarters from my cozy corner of the couch with a hot cocoa on deck. As Lucas grows up a little, I am starting to incorporate more of the nonessential but enjoyable activities into my everyday life. I am tying on my running shoes everyday, whether I run, walk on my lunch break, or simply wear them on marathon grocery shopping trips with two babies assisting. It’s the reminder I need to make an effort to move in the right ways to feel better. After I post this blog, I’m going to see about getting some long-overdue prints ordered. I’m going to remember to kiss my husband more.

And I’m going to get to bed, ASAP, I promise. Ha. I won’t get enough sleep tonight, just as I haven’t for many, many nights running. But September will come all the same. And then it will go. And the months will file past in turn. I’ll be here through them all, loving and nurturing and thinking and dreaming and writing and walking and living.

Happy September Eve.