After reading the poem that circulated recently, “The Last Time”, I found myself feeling very wistful, yet bitter sweet. My oldest son is six and in grade one this year, and my youngest just started pre-school for the first time this fall. Anyone whose children have reached school age, knows that once a child attends school everyday, they undergo a subtle transformation. Their independence becomes stronger each day, and suddenly their minds are filled with ideas that didn’t come from you.
Already with my growing young boys, so many precious moments have slipped away. Baby cuddles are long over, and so many of our children’s “firsts” have come and passed for our family. It’s only natural feel a bit sad, when without realizing it, these precious moments with our children, have become the last time.
And even though I take many, many pictures, I’m never sure if I’ve captured all of these things to hold onto forever. I hope I’ve done a good job, and I’ll continue to document as many ordinary, everyday moments as I can.
I want to capture every phase they go through, each discovery they make, the games they’ll play for days on end, until suddenly they don’t play that anymore.
And although I feel wistful for the moments that have come and gone already, there will be so many wonderful moments yet to celebrate.
And through all their developments and changes I must remember that my children still believe in magic, small wonders still amaze them, and it will be a long while yet before they are “too cool” to imagine, play pretend, or get silly. Mommy and Daddy are still their heroes, they are still each other’s best friends, and although we can’t slow down time, all is right with the world.