As I sit here, my son cozy on my lap, it’s so very hard not to think of the dinner I was cooking, the laundry I was putting away, the shoes I was putting on. But here with my son cozy on my lap, I dare not disrupt this moment because I never know when it will happen again.
If parenthood has taught me anything, it has taught me what really matters. It’s taught me what tasks can wait. It’s taught me to accept as best as I can all the things in my life that I’ve left unfinished.
This is a particularly hard thing for a person like me. I like to finish what I’ve started. I enjoy seeing the fruits of my labor. What can I say? I thrive on productivity.
At the same time, I like to hold on to those moments I wish would never pass; those moments that become memories, then eventually dreams of a past life, a reality from so long ago that in some ways it doesn’t seem real. In those moments, I don’t want closure. I don’t want to see where this goes. I want it to stay right there as it is, unfinished. I want to hold on to those moments for as long as I can. I want them to remain ever present, as unrealistic as that may be. I want to make sure those moments are so deeply etched in my story that I can recall them with clarity at a moment’s notice.
I don’t want to forget those moments when I left life unfinished. After all, that’s when the magic happens.