Everything is a whirlwind of activity this time of year. Rush to decorate the house, to buy the presents. Run off to this activity or that commitment.
Time is flying by at such an alarming rate. The holidays are almost here but it seems like only yesterday my leopard dino cat and I were trick or treating. How did that happen?
She is moving so fast too. Growing like a weed, advancing by leaps and bounds. She wants to learn everything now. She wants to master every new skill. She wants to grow up, fast. She knows she will be three in January. She is not sure what that means, only that it means she is getting bigger. And getting bigger means she can do more.
One moment she will be sitting on the floor reading a book, the next she is up and moving like a blur. She is spinning, running, jumping, dancing. Doing everything and anything she can.
All of this movement is scaring me. I don't want to move fast. I prefer to take it slow. I want to curl up on the couch with a blanket and hot cocoa, turning in on myself. I want to pull her in my lap. To hold on to her, to who she is now for just a little while longer.
I want to dive into the pool that is the present time, swiming in and soaking up the beauty of the now until my fingers get all pruny. I want to live in this moment. I want to be present in this time and this time only.
So I move slowly, deliberately. I reach out grasping at this moment and that flash holding them to my breast. I inhale deeply trying to memorize the smells. I scan the world around me, taking millions of mental pictures to capture the now.
The future does not matter. What is around the bend will come in its own time.