What led me to blog on this particular night, I'm not sure. This event happened most of a year ago, but it's one that's been on my heart many, many times since. There are just those moments you do not want to forget....
We had gone up into the Oregon mountains to Diamond Lake, not too far from Crater Lake. We stayed in a little cabin with some friends for the weekend for what they call "Snow Camp". This particular year, however, there wasn't much snow at all. In fact, the biggest amount of snow was that which had been piled up from clearing the roadways just outside our cabin. The dads spent most of the days outside with the children playing, the moms inside with the babies drying dripping wet snowclothes as quickly as possible in front of the woodstove. However, the children didn't seem to mind wearing their wet snowclothes and sludging through the rain so long as sledding, shoveling, and snowballs were involved.
All packed up and leaving the mountain resort, I must say that Jason and I were a bit tired and ready to head back to our warm, dry home. As we were driving out the road, I said out loud "Bye bye snow camp. See you next time." Silence followed for a minute or two, then, in what may be the single moment Jason and I remember from all of Emet's childhood, Emet cried out "Bye bye snow pants, I love you!" Then, "Bahahaha" he burts out in tears in his very first wail of expressed sadness. Jason and I looked at each other and nearly cried too. It was the sweetest thing we'd ever heard.
Here we are seven months later. Emet has grown in leaps and bounds, both physically, mentally, and verbally. Next year, he will be in a whole different place and have a whole different experience. It reminds me that time passes so very quickly. That stage for Emet has passed, and thus, it has passed for me too. I miss it. He is still only two years old, so a part of what we saw then is still with us.....but not for long. Even as I welcome the beauty of what may be ahead for my children, I cling to what was passed.....to what is now. That's human nature, I guess. We can't just seem to trust and grow. We're always afraid that what we have clenched in our fist at this moment is better than what could be to come. In a sense, it's the opposite problem of seeing the glass half empty.