Freezing Time

So many of my friends - both near and far, real and on facebook - are saying, commenting, blogging, and posting how they want "to freeze time." I absolutely understand this feeling and fight it daily. It seems that most of my life I have wished for the future. When, oh when, would I be old enough to wear mascara? Would I ever make it to the ephemeral age that I might actually be able to go on a date? Could stupid high school ever be over so that I could go on to college? Would my years in Bani Bangou pass so that I could remember fondly that I had lived there without actually having to still live there? Would my long-time love ever go ahead and seal the deal and marry me? Good lord, would law school ever come to an end already? When would we get to explore the next country? Would we ever have a house with flowers in the yard and a fire in the fireplace and jobs that make us smile? Those thoughts have been the themes of wishes, hopes, longing for decades. That perpetual quest for over there - not here. That trying to move on, move on, keep going - and get there ever faster. With the births of my children, that longing has been forever changed. I no longer yearn to rush. I do not hope for tomorrow. I ache and antagonize for today - to stop time. To smell her hair longer. To nibble the backs of his little legs while that's still not too weird. Every word Greta utters and every laugh Wyatt giggles I want to bottle up and keep on a shelf for later when they are different; when I am different. I have high hopes for the bright future we have as a family and as individuals, and in no way do I shun that future's approach. But I somehow fear that I will let this little childhood that we are all living right now go somewhere where I won't be able to live it but can only remember it; recall it. Hence, this photo. It captures Greta's mind at nearly-age-three. She's essentially a bag lady, collecting all her favorite trinkets and carrying them around in old shopping bags on the sides of her baby stroller. You will find her new scissors, her old sparkly shoes, Red Dog who is properly diapered, and a host of rocks, pine cones, and sticky pads in the nether regions of that bag. I took this photo about 5:45 yesterday morning, when I nearly tripped over this compilation in the dining room. It made me smile, and I thought: I wish I could freeze time. This post is my effort to do that.