Raindrops

It’s these little moments, the seemingly insignificant interactions that I’m so afraid of forgetting, that I want to sear in my brain so in years to come, I can clearly recall the moment in colors as vivid as they flashed this day.

* * *

My Owen, almost six, carries crumb-filled dishes, precariously balanced, across the kitchen.

I’ll help you do the dishes, Mom.

And so we stand, side by side, me rinsing, he loading the dishwasher. An ordinary moment, inconsequential in the scheme of our day. But the sweetness of my child seeps out through his pores for these minutes we stand working together as mother and son.

* * *

My Eli, barely three, presses his grimy palms to my cheeks.

I love you, Mama. You’re mine. I want to kiss you.

And he proceeds with his ritual. Cheek, other cheek, nose, forehead, lips.

I can’t stop kissing you!

And I hope he never does.

* * *

My Axel, nine months old tomorrow. We lay on our bed in the dark, winding down before eyes fall heavy with sleep. I sing to him, and he sings with me, his ahhhhhhhhs pouring out from a mouth open wide. Our harmony is like honey and the sweetness oozes all around us, warm and gooey and sweet.

* * *

Sometimes I tense with fear, gripped with anxiety, knowing that I will forget. That I will lose these fleeting moments of childhood that come and are gone like raindrops in a river. I scribble memories in my mind and scrawl notes in books to capture a slice -- even a bite -- of the essence of our lives, but as I grasp these handfuls to take with me as my boys grow, so much slips like water through my fingers and I stare down at my empty hand wondering how I could possibly lose hold of something that, in the moment, feels so solid.

But I have found solace in accepting that although I won’t remember every mannerism or moment that brings me so much joy right now, that the reason I want to remember it all, to hang on for dear life to all of the bits of life around me, is simply because I am happy. And if I can just remember that we were happy, that I delighted in the little things my children said and did and that our lives were joyful, if I can remember the essence of our life and in years to come, recall the scent of joy that fills our home in these days of raising little boys, then that’s all I really need to do.