Once we become parents, it seems that life is always too hectic and that we are too rushed to even notice the time passing by. It is a shame that the thing that usually makes us appreciate all that is good is a traumatic event – a serious accident, financial hardship, the loss of a loved one. My weekend was like that. One son had a game in the wee hours of Saturday morning; the other had one midday. My oldest’s birthday party was Saturday afternoon and my middle son had a big event all day Sunday with his hockey team. All week I fretted about how we would manage the weekend, as I knew I would get little sleep and would have to be able to cope with the kids and their schedules.
Friday night I worked late into the evening trying to get laundry and housework done as I knew the weekend would make it impossible to do so.
Saturday morning, when it was still dark, I lifted my six-year-old son from his bunk bed and closed the door so my youngest could stay sleeping. “Mommy, it is like we are getting up in the middle of the night!” was his astonished remark. He dressed in a hurry and gulped down the oatmeal I had made before waking him. I filled my insulated cup with coffee and loaded his equipment into the car. When I got into the driver’s seat, I noticed that he wasn’t beside me. I looked out and there he was on the driveway, looking straight up, his face shining in the predawn moonlight. I came out and stood beside him.
The air was crisp and cold as we stood there alone, just the two of us. There was no sound but our breathing, no light but the moon and stars. After what seemed forever, but was likely only a minute or two we looked at each other. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes shone. “Mommy, it is wonderful out here. It is like we are the only people in the world!” I reached over and took his hand in mine and squeezed it. “Honey,” I whispered, “right now, we are.”