Last night I was trying to capture the way these flowers were glowing, reflecting the last of the waning light in our front yard as the day turned to evening.
This is also the twilight of my maternity leave - the last few days at home with Little Pea, with nothing to do but play and take care of her. As with the end of the day, this seems to be the sweetest time I have ever known. Everything seems golden, more beautiful and poignant than I have ever seen it.
Of course, nothing is changing. I will still be her mama, and we'll still take walks together and play with toys and nurse quietly (and sometimes noisily) in the rocking chair. I'll still squeeze in a row or two of knitting here and there whenever I can. But of course, I'll be shoe-horning all this wonder and beauty into the fragmented bits of time before and after work. And I have a feeling that these too-fast golden hours are going to fly by all the more quickly now.
This week Little Pea and I took our last trip together to the Wednesday afternoon farmer's market. We bought veggies and bread, and visited with our downtown friends and farmers. I found myself really strolling, walking slower than normal to just soak up as much of it as I could. I pushed the idea of time from my mind altogether and just enjoyed the moments as we had them. It felt so good to take things in more completely - the smiles of the people there, the thoughts and ideas shared in conversations with friends, the simple colors and shapes of the vegetables.
Being in the moment, letting go of a hurry to a goal or destination, is a lesson that the Little Pea teaches me over and over. I am so grateful for the chance to practice, every day, that this time at home with her has given me. I hope I can cultivate it in my hurry-hurry work life as well - even when I want to hurry home to her.
