(These comfy little numbers are from Target. Black in spring? Yes. When I'm wearing a bright teal sweater!)
But, I digress.
27. I have become quite the procrastinator it seems over the past few years. Lazy? Maybe. Maybe not. I think I've been a product of my environment. I resolved on my last birthday to stop procrastinating so much, especially at work and when traveling. (I HATE packing!) I did really well for a while, and I can say I have improved over the last almost-a-year. But I still have work to do.
28. I hate the telephone. I have always hated chatting on the phone. I wasn't a typical teenage girl who spent hours on end on the tele. Needless to say, I am a fan of the evolution of letters to email to facebook to texting. But I must stay aware and conscious of the fact that these are conveniences of modern technology and not replacements for face-to-face communication. (I come from a lineage of hermits; I could easily fall in to that habit.)
And is it weird that as I inch closer and closer to number 39 on this list, I am starting to get a little claustrophobic? It's hitting me. I'm this close to being 40. The number doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that time is moving so freakin' quickly the older I grow. (Part of this has to be because I am an older parent of young kids. An older parent who works full time. An older parent who works full time and gets way too little sleep. This list could go on and on.)
Now that I have been given so many gifts (family, friends, not to mention husband and beautiful sons), it makes me sad to know that I don't have control over time. And I already miss the things I will certainly miss one day because I'm old or, you know, dead. :) I've been having flash-forwards lately of my boys' lives. Of school and careers and families. Where will I fit in? And I've been remembering things from when I was younger. When I was little. Or remembering my loved ones who have already passed, whom my boys will never get to know.
But I don't want to be sad. I want to enjoy every. single. day. I want to collect every single simple defining moment in my memory banks, never to be forgotten. I want to teach my boys and leave a positive impression on their hearts, minds, and souls. I want them to know they are my joy. I want to love my husband and let him know I am thankful for his love, support, and HIM plain and simple. Our family is so lucky he is ours.
Why do I suddenly feel like my life is a countdown where the numbers are descending so quickly I just can't keep up? I feel like I am sprawled out, flat on my belly, arms flailing, screaming, "No! Stop!"
I hope my final countdown from 10 to 1 is a long, long, LONG ways off. {great grammar, huh?} I hope I am really old. (But I hope I don't smell like a really old person.) Still of good mental capacity. Reasonably healthy so I am not a burden to anyone. In a quiet warm (but not too warm) sunny place with their faces smiling at me, holding their hands.
I hope I can make them as happy as they have made me.
No comments:
Post a Comment