My childhood is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Perhaps, it's just the memory of being young, that sparks that longing for innocence and simplicity. With time pressing forward ever so fast, my soul aches to return to my childhood days, when time had less of an agenda. I ache to return to those days when, the sun didn't set. Instead, it hung high in the azure sky, at my request. It stung my skin as I bicycled, skateboarded, played catch with pa, or carved "I love dogs" in the Sycamore tree, that towered above all the other trees on Madrid Way. I long for those childhood days I experienced, where each season of the year came and stayed for good, because time didn't exist.
Spring meant rain, wind and slushy streets. Occasionally, it meant the valley being covered with clouds for days, with accompanied brown, crunchy lawn, lining each neighborhood. Spring, meant an occasional snowstorm and one last snowman out front. It meant digging my shorts out far too early, only to find that the bitter air forced me to put them back. Spring meant the sun showing itself a little more each day and on occasion, it meant, dad helping me dig the trampoline out from under the rubbish in the garage, only to find that mother nature wasn't done bringing snow. Spring meant, hearing the birds beg for summer. Spring meant light.
Summer meant, relentless heat and endless amounts of popsicles with friends. Summer meant, hearing neighbors outside BBQ-ing and Lisa and I laying out on the trampoline to tan. Summer meant, Utah thunderstorms rolling in from the west, without warning and gutters full of water, flooding Madrid Way. It meant hot, quiet days that lasted forever and when time ordered the sun to set over the Oquirrhs, it meant a neighborhood bike ride, or game of kick the can. Sometimes summer meant camping, or fishing and an occasional parade outing. Summer meant, slumber parties and it meant many days up in a Sycamore tree, pondering. Summer meant forever.
Fall meant, returning to school and seeing friends. Fall meant, leaves on the ground, jackets, earlier sunsets, pumpkins and hot chocolate. It meant, piano lessons that I hated and split pea soup that my tongue didn't agree with. Fall meant, frost on the grass in the mornings and longer shadows in the afternoons. Fall always meant, leaves changing colors and hauling the wood back to the patio. Fall meant winter.
Winter meant dark, cold, snow, shoveling, white mountains, coats, fires and worst of all CHRISTMAS. Winter meant an occasional day off of school and Swedish cocoa and coffee bread for breakfast. Winter meant, snowball fights and sledding at the school. Winter meant everything depressing, for me anyway. Winter meant, days getting longer, EVENTUALLY.
As my childhood went on without any warning of what was to come, I soon found myself....NOW. I found myself sitting here, 162 seasons later wondering what time has done to me. I found myself wondering what time has done to my children. Children? When did I have children and has time unfairly done to them what it did to me? For this is what I saw...
I walked into the house today and glanced down at my kids' shoes, that were lying in the mudroom. What I saw startled me. What I saw shook my core. I stopped at those shoes and looked at them, as if I had never before seen them. I almost didn't recognize the very fabric that covers the feet of my loved ones. As tears welled up in my eyes, my thoughts quickly turned to THEIR childhood and the memories of when the sun would hang in the sky just a little bit longer for them. Or did it? Did time really pause for me, or was I fooled by the imaginary illusion of a timeless childhood, because a loving Father in Heaven knew how much I would cherish it? Have my kids experienced the same? Where have all the moments of my "little kids" gone?
What I saw took my breath away. What I saw reminded me to fight back against time and its agenda of carrying on. What I saw brought tears to my eyes, knowing that each of those shoes(minus Madison's), were once the size of my palm, but time has made them grow. Time has begun to take them on the path that I went down. It is a journey that everyone goes on, yet one that is unique to everyone. It is called LIFE. I believe a better term would be "TIME", because after all, time is what has a hold on us. Time is what makes us age and what makes us be. Time might be an illusion, but what I saw, I know was caused by time.
So, as I stared for a moment more at my kids' shoes, I plead with my Heavenly Father. I plead with Him that one day I could again, have those precious, palm-sized feet back, or that I could at least have all the memories that had once accompanied them. I plead with him to protect the kids, that belonged to those big size feet now. I plead with him to store their childhood memories in a heavenly vault somewhere, where time cannot destroy them and where they can one day, live their childhood again, just as lively as I live mine.
What I saw, humbled me. What I saw, awe-struck me. What I saw, amazed me. They love, teach, edify and serve. They are my children, my love, my life, my everything. Madison. Jacob. Ashley. Amber.
