Time

N. Scott Momaday said that instead of time passing by us, we are passing through it.

I've been looking through pictures on facebook tonight. Everything changes so quickly.

Want to see the night that Jake and I first met? That'd be photo 267.

(He was 18, I was 17. Can you tell we were going to get married 8.5 months later? I could...minus the exact time frame of course.)
(He was 19, I was 18.)

Or when size 0 pants were a little roomy? Picture 213.

My favorite hair picture? 326.

The night we told everyone we were pregnant for the first time? 239.

(Thanksgiving 2006)

Certainty.

(1. Our apartment, 2. Church, 3. Obama's house, 4. Jake's school - and what I didn't know at the time: how absolutely in love with this neighborhood I would be. I would number every little thing I loved the most, but there wouldn't be room. We're talking minute details.)

The moment sisters met.

One of the last times sisters will see one another.

Dog Owners for three days.

(Noonan)

A place where a big part of my insides felt right.

My fuzzy headed baby.

(Oh how I miss that little head some times.)

It goes on and on and on.

I find peace in Momaday's interpretation of time passing, though either way our existence cannot stand still. My little babies are growing up. I wonder what sentiment I will feel about this very day when I reflect back on it in the future.

2 comments