28 July 2012

Of Four Years

Four years ago I was tuning into the Summer Olympics - one of my favorite events ever (even more so than the Winter, which are still a favorite, just a little less favorite).  I was very pregnant and begging this baby would come out earlier than planned so as to give me enough time to recuperate before heading to my brother's wedding (the stubborn and punctual little girl waited until her due date - she was not going to do this any earlier than she had already planned).

We watched the opening ceremonies that year with some friends, whose two-month-old baby girl slept on the floor while their four-year-old played in her room.  These were the only two children between us.  It was a low-key and delightful experience.

Four years later, same friends, same house, we strove to hear the announcers over the sound of our own three kids playing with their three.  After the artistic (and, at times, "interesting") portion of the show, as the nations began their parade into the arena, we had to pack up a three-year-old, two-year-old and five-month-old who were all well ready for bed - we wouldn't even get to stay to watch the flame ignite.

Life has changed so much in four years - and, yet, it feels it's all the same.  We watch the events while hearing so many of the same names, seeing the same faces, while also taking part in the joy of new competitors, hearing new stories and watching new moments of history being written.

It's this little thing, this one event, this single thread running through time, that reminds me how quickly life passes.  Some things change, some remain, but still it goes.

Interested to see where and how we'll be viewing these Games in another four years, but for now, relishing the moment before us.

1000 Gifts:
706. An unprovoked, "I love you, Bubba!" from our little girl
707. Emmett telling me, "I want to keep you, too."
708. Cruising the curves of familiarity.
709. Riding off into the sunset to see my man.
710. Small-town street lamps at dusk.
711. An eternal flame of gratitude to our fallen heroes.
712. Clouds like powdered sugar.
713. Little baby, rocking and rolling
714. Growing baby, sitting up on his own
715. The ever-increasing curiosity of a developing baby boy

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