Our fifteenth granchild Emery Kay
"If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. If you are at peace, you are living in the present." I can't confirm who to attribute this quote, but whomever verbalized it first, it for sure touches a nerve with me.
Now that the dirt roads are dry enough to walk on without accumulating five inches of mud on the soles of our boots, we have taken up our evening walks again. We make our way up the first steep hill; my heart starts to race and I have to stop half-way to catch my breath. "Man! When will I ever get in shape enough that this hill doesn't wipe me out?!" Waiting for my breathing to regulate, we glance down at the concrete foundation that has been sitting all winter under a blanket of white snow, now finally exposed and ready for the roads to open for large construction trucks once again.
Once my breath regulates, we continue on. I relish these evening walks. It's our chance to catch up with each other outside of work and responsibilities and reconnect on the things we care most deeply about. Each other. Our family. Our faith. With the very recent birth of our fifteenth grandchild (the tenth grand-daughter), we have been reminded that our numbers continue to grow, and the foundation of this home will hopefully also be the foundation of a legacy of family dinners, nature walks, wild-life watching, star-gazing, and mostly a respite from city life and responsibilities. A time where they can come stay and even the adult children can tap into a bit of their once carefree child-hood and I can dote on them and cook for them for even if for a few hours.
My fourth baby Wyatt Joseph Albert Phelps
The crunch of gravel under the soles of our boots is the only thing I can hear until we come around a bend and approach the pond. The sun is setting and the croaking of frogs and toads and the songs of various birds becomes almost comical. Dave and I quit talking so we can pay attention to all the different sounds around us. The wild-life night-life is something to behold.
When I walk past the gamble oaks and aspen trees, I can't help but miss my mother. There will never be a day go by that I don't long for my parents. I don't share this fact often with my children. They don't like to think of me being sad or lonely. There is no cure for this kind of ache.
When Natalie was a tiny baby, I would put her to bed for the night and then go sit on the couch with the photo album of pictures of her and bemoan how fast my tiny baby was growing. How did the wrinkly newborn suddenly turn into a roly-poly baby that could sit up and clap her hands and say "Da-da"?!
It's a different sort of ache watching my babies grow into adults. The happiest sort. They are my favorite people, who, outside of spending my free time with Dave, are nearly the only people I'd choose to spend time with. They are fun, clever, and affectionate; but mostly they are so good to each other. They celebrate each other's wins and buoy each other up through their difficulties. They love each other's children as their own, and their loyalties run deep.
No sweeter sound than that of a newborn baby's cry
When I was a little girl and my mother would tuck me into bed and tell me she loved me and she'd see me in the morning, as she'd close the bedroom door just enough to let a little glow from the hallway light shine in, I'd sometimes ask her "How MUCH do you love me though?" Without fail, she'd reply, "Oh....you'll know when you have your own children someday. Now goodnight honey...."
In the group chat the girls request updated pictures of the new baby frequently. They sometimes post pictures of their own rapidly growing children's tiny baby pictures with captions of "How can this seem like just yesterday?!"
We walk back down the gravel road toward our tiny cabin. I like to stand here and envision it with my people up here. We will look up at the moon and the stars. The same moon and stars that, as a child, I gazed at with my own parents. I ponder the past. I dream about the future. I am at peace today.
Wyatt, Megan, Sienna, and baby Emery
Now they are figuring out how much I love them.
Comments