a memory for when i am eighty.

When Ashlyn was a baby we moved to an area where there were lots of little eighty year old ladies.  Everyday Ashlyn and I would take walks along the tree lined streets, and the little old ladies would come out of their homes to tell me that these were the best years of my life.  And that I shouldn't wish them away.  And that they wished they would have enjoyed that time of their life more.  It was sweet.  And it scared me.  I didn't want to be regretting that I hadn't enjoyed my children when I was eighty.  So I determined very early that I would try my very hardest to enjoy these young years.  Some days it was easy.  Some days it was impossible.  But almost all the days, I have loved being the mother to my young children.  And now that my youngest is three and no more children are planned for the future, I have to confess that I have a little trepidation about leaving these years behind.

So last night when I walked into my room and saw Ava had crawled into my bed and fallen asleep, I almost did what I would normally do: promptly pick her up and return her to her own bed.  But as I reached for her, I noticed those long eyelashes resting on those chubby little cheeks, and her soft hair, and those little sweet breaths and now I know they really don't last forever...  So I snuggled up next to her, and held her close and smelled her sweet hair and feel asleep with her in my arms.  And these are the moments I will remember when I am eighty.