It takes four years to get through high school. Four years for college. (Theoretically). Imagine the years between your freshman and senior year…forever. At least, that’s how it seemed to me.

Four years sure aren’t what they used to be.

I have been weepy. I think this is when it started. The girls and I had some friends over yesterday. My dear friend, Melissa and her 2 kids. Here they are with River.
Melissa and I were pregnant at the same time and our due dates were only one day apart. Needless to say, these three have spent a lot of time together over the past four years. I took this photo on a whim…they were playing silly on the floor. As soon as I took it, I remembered. I rushed downstairs and pulled this out.
There they are at what couldn’t be more than a few months old. And it hit me anew how consistently the days move on despite my efforts to hold on. So here I am feeling impossibly sentimental. If I am weepy as they turn four, can you imagine when they go to kindergarten? Begin to drive? Go off to college? Get….married?

I long to hold on, to keep their old clothes, to document with photos, to be sure I am able to remember. But even now, only 4 years later, the day of their birth is a foggy blue…sharpened into focus only slightly by looking at photos of the day or re-reading journals written in those wee hours between feedings and heavy, new-mom sleep.

I want to enjoy, to celebrate, to look ahead with hopeful anticipation of the women the Lord has made them to be by watching the little girls they are today. And I do. And I am proud. But there is a cloud. It is small and not overwhelming…but it is there. And I have a sense that with each birthday, it will get a little bigger. I so don’t want to be the hovering, over-protective mother. But I can’t deny the pull that does indeed exist…between holding on and letting go.

So with that semi-depressing thought, Happy Birthday girls. May you live life to the hilt with adventure and delight…and may your counseling bill not be too high when you inevitably realize all the issues you have because of your crazy mother.