Yellow turned red and they came to a halt beside me. I sat at the light and their smiles mesmerized me, round bright faces barely clearing the bottom sash. They huddled in, noses touching glass, eyes full of wonder and awe. The yellow chariot was en route to the place where the babies would encounter a beautiful new world and their minds would soon explore all that was and dream of all that can be while their hearts flourish and are fed with new friendships.
And just like that the faces staring from the yellow chariot were my little one and the brave one and I was catapulted to the time when we, too, were eagerly anticipating what was to come. We, though, always eased into the season. Always a lunch date. Always a shopping excursion to fill backpacks with shiny new supplies. Sun soaked hair would be tamed and rope bracelets seeped in summer adventures would be cut off. Heart, mind and body made school ready. And yet, somehow as we much as we assured ourselves we were ready, we would find ourselves beside the water holding fast to the final minutes. Toes in sand, I would breathe deep the moment- never giving way to the simple fact I was not at all sure I was ready to let them fly.
The light cycled red to green and just as quickly as the moment came, it was gone. It was one of those innate moments that caused pause. I have come to know them well. They are the innate moments that force a sharp inhale in anticipation of the hard and fast sting about to pierce my heart. My brave one is about to set sail, the slow ease has already begun. I sat across from him as we ate lunch, my boy now young man embarking on a new and exciting adventure. His world is about to become that much bigger than it already is and what were once dreams are within reach of being realized. I sat across from my beautiful brave one as he rattled off the laundry list of what is still yet to be done and the years rattled through my mind. What I would give for one more sunset where I would watch him stare intently at the bobber floating on top of the water. What I would give to have her sitting at the table debating what would be the back to school battle plan. What I would give for time to stop right there at that lunch, for time to halt in place and hold us in that very moment- forever.
It is in these simple, sweet and innate moments that I whisper my wish to the heavens. And what I have come to understand is that no matter how desperate my heart‘s urging, no matter what “my what I would give,” wishes are not always granted. While I do not necessarily like it, I am realizing wishes that remain in heaven are, in and of themselves, a grace. I have come to realize if my wishes were granted every time I whisper them to the heavens, I would miss the very moments to come. I would miss the beautiful moments of which I cannot yet fathom or image. I know now that if time froze every time my heart felt filled to overflowing, if my wish was granted every time I wanted time to stand in place, the yellow chariot would not set sail on an amazing adventure and dreams would not be within reach. And so I will trust as my brave one sets off on a new adventure and know all that is to come, all that I can image and that which I can not, will add to the treasure trove that will surely soothe when the days are long and transform a broken heart into overflowing.