My beloved grandson is walking now. He'll be a year April 30th.
I remember the day he was born. I remember holding him. I remember the first time he smiled. I remember the first time he held his bottle. I remember the first time he crawled (that was to me, by the way). I remember when he recognized his name.
His year has been filled with firsts, and I tuck them away in my heart for safekeeping.
Milestones are important. They mark both beginnings and endings.
We tend to have a lot in our lives.
I'm absolutely horrid with dates. It's an OCD numbers thing, I think. But I remember experiences and feelings.
I remember the first time I had a piece of mine, a poem, picked for publication. I remember being incredibly proud when my babies graduated from high school. I remember their births.
It's funny. I've had quite a few not-so-great things happen as well. They tend to dim after time. While the good things continue to shine.
I only remember the blindingly sharp pain of childbirth if I specifically try to recall it. Otherwise, I skip right over it to when they little ones are in my arms. I try not to remember my house burning to the ground and usually only do so if I smell smoke. The pain of rejection or abuse fades into the background unless something crosses my mind as a reminder.
But all the milestones are there. And they're each important.
We usually don't have beginnings unless we have endings. I think we, as humans, tend to hold on to things that perhaps we should not hold onto as long as we do. You can't grasp something else if your hand is already full.
While I'm not going to break out into "Let It Go" (a song, which I know all the words to even though my children are adults), I think it's appropriate to acknowledge all milestones.
Appreciate your life for the ups and downs. Dream big. And if something doesn't fit you, or you've outgrown it...Let. It. Go.
*******
I remember the day he was born. I remember holding him. I remember the first time he smiled. I remember the first time he held his bottle. I remember the first time he crawled (that was to me, by the way). I remember when he recognized his name.
His year has been filled with firsts, and I tuck them away in my heart for safekeeping.
Milestones are important. They mark both beginnings and endings.
We tend to have a lot in our lives.
I'm absolutely horrid with dates. It's an OCD numbers thing, I think. But I remember experiences and feelings.
I remember the first time I had a piece of mine, a poem, picked for publication. I remember being incredibly proud when my babies graduated from high school. I remember their births.
It's funny. I've had quite a few not-so-great things happen as well. They tend to dim after time. While the good things continue to shine.
I only remember the blindingly sharp pain of childbirth if I specifically try to recall it. Otherwise, I skip right over it to when they little ones are in my arms. I try not to remember my house burning to the ground and usually only do so if I smell smoke. The pain of rejection or abuse fades into the background unless something crosses my mind as a reminder.
But all the milestones are there. And they're each important.
We usually don't have beginnings unless we have endings. I think we, as humans, tend to hold on to things that perhaps we should not hold onto as long as we do. You can't grasp something else if your hand is already full.
While I'm not going to break out into "Let It Go" (a song, which I know all the words to even though my children are adults), I think it's appropriate to acknowledge all milestones.
Appreciate your life for the ups and downs. Dream big. And if something doesn't fit you, or you've outgrown it...Let. It. Go.
*******
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