Wistful

Lately I've been feeling wistful, not in a melancholy-depressive-regretful way, but in a thoughtful, reflective, pensive way.  Maybe it's because of the sun, rising ever more lazily each morning and retreating to its westerly home earlier each night.  Perhaps it is the chilly breeze that forces me to pull my sweater a little more snugly around myself.

Regardless, I find that I am more cerebral, and sometimes get lost in my thoughts.  One recurrent theme of these thoughts is time, and just how dichotomous the feeling of passing minutes and days sometimes seem.  There are moments when I marvel at how quickly time appears to move around me, and other times when I take note of how very slow the hours feel.  I mean, it was both a lifetime ago and yesterday that my dear Baby Loquacious was just a teensy, helpless bundle in my arms, or a burrowed, mysterious bump in my belly.  Now, already, she is a crawling, inquisitive, talkative little person with a strong and determined will.  Did I miss something? How did we already journey seven long months? I feel like I only just blinked, and I am already here, more than half a year later.  But on those long nights when she fought sleep and fussed, the minutes crawled.  Sometimes they still do. And sometimes, when my eyes are heavy after a night of much interrupted sleep, even the seconds seem to drag.

There are fleeting instances when my mind drifts to a simpler time when Baby L was little more than a prayer on our lips and a hope in our heart.  During these times, I do get wistful for the "easy" moments that Hubbs and I were able to share, ones that were romantic and passionate and undisturbed by the needy yelps of our little love baby.  How fondly I remember our deep conversations as we walked the seawall, hand in hand, dreaming about the endless possibilities of our future together and exploring the depths of our theology.  How lovely were those amber and jade-coloured drives across the border over Thanksgiving weekend, a sense of adventure filling us to the brim with excitement.  How peaceful were our lazy, late-night soaks in jetted two-person jacuzzis.  These all feel like they happened in another life, for our present reality, though wonderful, provides only the briefest of glimpses of that previous existence.

However, in the quiet of the day when I'm outside enjoying this glorious season, I still sometimes try to take in the sights, scents and sounds of the moment, capturing it for storage in my long term memory.  I know that once the moment has passed, it will be gone forever, so I breathe a little more deeply and consciously slow down to absorb as much of it as I can.  Praises and utterances of thanksgiving form in my heart and I try to enjoy being in the "right here, right now," for even though these little pockets of time are perhaps new and different from the wistful memories that I so dearly cherish, they too will soon become a memory that I will one day recall with fondness.

Enjoying a Mum-Mum.