Time Bound

Today, for Father's Day the 11-year-old composed a most delicious breakfast of eggs and toast with a side of ham. And quite a good meal it was. He not only planned and prepared the meal, but also plated and served. Presentation IS everything.

I had a drink with a friend on Friday who shared some photos of her beloveds from an professional photo shoot. She wanted to capture in film the moments that she sees as a mom. No phony canned expressions of a traditional portrait. The pics were great--her babes are 9 and 6.

I got to thinking about the pics we have of the kids at different ages. Now that the 14-year-old is man-sized, seeing pictures of him as a 3rd grader doesn't connect with his current being. We were listening to a recording of him from two summers ago--from before he started singing at a register so low that only dogs can hear. The voice on the recording didn't belong to my son.

Then I started thinking of my own mom. In her head I am still in high-school. She talks about things that I "like" that I haven't actually liked in say, oh, 20 years?

You can't freeze time. You can remember the past. But what and who we were, isn't what and who we are. I used to hold both of the 14-year-old's feet in my one hand. I can't get my hands around one of his size 13 sneakers. I used to poke the 11-year-old in his squishy, baby belly and receive the most beautiful tinkles and bubbles of his baby giggles. Now, his belly laughs come from deeper in his belly--some day soon to come from a lower octave.

Capturing a moment or an afternoon in film can help to loose up a memory at a later time. Reconciling that moment to the person, though, gets harder and harder.