Don't blink

Every day brings new signs of age:

I had a friend tell me that songs we liked when we were younger are now being called "oldies" by the youth she works with.

My knee aches something fierce in the mornings, pops like crazy, and often has to be rubbed a little at night before bed.

I have even started prepping for the inevitable by using anti-wrinkle cream around my eyes.

However, nothing makes a person feel slightly ancient like receiving a wedding invitation for someone you use to babysit.

There once was a small boy - I remember clearly the day he was born. I remember changing diapers, and watching Mr. Rogers and cutting foods into small bites just for him.

We lived just down the street from them, so even though I was a little young to babysit, I use to watch him on a regular basis when he was about two.

Today, the invitation to his wedding came in the mail. I nearly cried.

When I was driving around this afternoon I heard that country song - "Don't blink" by Kenny Chesney. It seemed fitting. Life certainly goes by fast, doesn't it? I try to be reminded every day to appreciate the little moments.

I want to enjoy the fact that yellow pollen coating the world is actually sort of pretty. You can trace patterns, and draw pictures, and then blow it away to start over again.

I want to eat popcorn and watch a movie with "my boys", while the dishes from dinner are in the sink just waiting... on a Thursday, for no special reason.

I want to watch squash and zucchini, tomatoes and potatoes grow in my back yard, then harvest them, and sit at my table and thank God for the bountiful food that He provided - grown with my own two hands.

I want every moment to matter. Because every moment DOES matter. You never know when it might be the last. Maybe not the last moment ever. But the last time your six year old needs you to help them with that math problem, because they will understand the concept and never need your help again. Or the last blossom of spring, before the summer sun turns everything to heat and humidity. Or just the last kiss before he walks out the door for work, and it takes hours and hours before he comes home again for another kiss.

Every last one counts, just as much as the first one. And deserves to be appreciated too.

The dishes do have to be washed. The laundry as well. Just don't blink. Next thing you know, someone is getting married, and you start feeling just a little old.