Good Night Moon

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Like my friend, John Mayer, I try to recognize the moment, before the moment is gone. I have always been aware of the final time something is about to happen. I try to hold onto and memorize it, so I can recall every vivid detail when I revisit the past. Sometimes we know when the sand is running out of the hour glass, but often we aren't aware until it has passed. We then look back on it and wish we could remember it better. The further back in our memory, the more faded it becomes.

Last month, I closed the door to my Art Emporium. I knew this would be the last time and spent an extra minute or two, door knob in hand, looking into the room with the happiest of memories as I closed it for the very last time. I knew the day was coming and I had time to prepare and let go.

But what about when we don't have that time to prepare? What about when a change happens quietly and we never recognize the moment as being the final time? I used to wonder, when my children were little, when would be the final time that I would read Good Night Moon to them? They loved it and we read it frequently, searching for the mouse on each page with my nose buried in their freshly shampooed hair. I would take in the smell, their warmth, and wonder," Could tonight be it? Could tonight be the last time we read this story together?" Maybe then a week would pass and we would read it again, or even a month. But it always seemed to resurface every once in a while.

The thought would come and go and eventually the baby books were moved out of their rooms to make room for John Deer tractors and American Girl dolls. The thought about Good Night Moon then turned into wondering when the last time would be that my son would make tractor noises and plow fields in our living room. Now I watch my daughter and her friends with their dolls and wonder when the last time will be that they play with them. Will I know? Or will it simply, smoothly, seamlessly flow into the next thing that they move onto?

These things tend to overlap ever so subtly that we may not be able to reach back and remember the very last time. For that I am grateful. There are times to say good bye and come to terms with the last dance and there are times to hold onto it as a beautiful part of our past that really never leaves our heart. ~Susan