in a second

In a second I'm going to clean up this house. The tent, the little girl socks, the bowls of chips, yesterday's lunch--abandoned as we whisked ourselves out the door.

In a second, I'll empty the dishwasher and reload it. I'll freshen the cat litter, give them water and more food.

In a second, I'll push down the foot of that recliner. I'll wash the shadow of last night's mascara off my face.

In a second, I'll pick up the stuffed animals, the Hershey kiss wrappers, hair pins, and the curling iron, forgotten, on the kitchen table.

In a second, I'll start thinking of next weekend's Assumption Craft Fair and all the things I need to do to get ready. I'll write a list of every single thing I need to do, which will fill all my evenings this week.

But all of that in a second.

First. First, I will soak up this silent house and hold close all that the day-after-the-day holds. First, I will drink my cup of coffee and watch the day begin.

I was thinking last night, as I watched Mags and Will, how proud I am to be their mother. To have the honor of watching then come to such a silly, friendly, heads bent together, always deep in conversation relationship.

The raising of them has defined my life and we sit, with Maggie on the edge if her own flight...and I continue to marvel that, in a second, time goes by.

Will and Maggie are different creatures. And to look at a punch list of the posts on their paths, you would not find very much that overlaps.

Still, I said to someone the other day, "If I've learned anything from the parenting of the last decades, if I've been surprised by the outcome of of any imagined path we may have taken...it is to learn that neither of them are like me. I thought for sure one of them would be. But they are not like me at all...I have found that they are mostly like each other."