How Fast Life Goes

I was talking to my super-cute neighbor from across the street. She has four young boys; I think the oldest is in 1st grade. She mentioned how unbelievably fast life is going for her, chasing the boys around, working as a nurse, and all of the other hats worn as wife, mother, etc. etc. etc.

I know.

I told her how just the other weekend I got down a tote of clothes from the garage, labeled "BOY 12-18 months" to hand over to my brother for his son, Damon. Except...except I couldn't just hand the clothes over. No. I had to go through each piece that I had previously folded, moved three times, and stored all these years a blue plastic tote. And with each piece of clothing I took out, the years melted away. Back to memories of when my sweet Ethan had been running around wearing them. The summer Ethan turned one, he lived in sandals and onesie outfits that snapped at the crotch, so I had several adorable outfits to oooh and ahhhh over after so many years. Those cottons seemed like old friends. The green plaid shirt with a GAP teddy bear on the pocket he'd wear with khaki pants. The blue plaid shirt he wore on Father's Day - that matched Stuart's - that they wore under the walnut tree in Grandma Engla's yard while I snapped a picture: Father's Day 2001. That red/white Ralph Lauren polo onesie that he looked oh, so handsome in; Seattle,a baby contest in Provo, and countless other times. The times when he wanted me, needed me, loved my kisses and let me carry him around with that constant smile. I'll admit a few heart strings pulled at my insides going through them, but then I told myself that THIS was the reason I had kept them; I wanted to have either another son wear them or pass them along to someone else that I loved to enjoy. It was why I kept the 'best outfits' folded neatly in blue plastic totes, labeled by gender and size in the garage all in the delirious dream that I'd live near my immediate family and have a 'roving' wardrobe of trading-shopping-grabbing that would create this bond among siblings and cousins. Part of that delirious dream is true: I live near my baby brother. We're just hundreds of miles away from the rest of the crew. Even now - I don't know why - but my eyes are kind of tearing up just thinking about how I packed up the clothes and put them into Brookie's car. It was not the clothes, it's the memories.

It's the memories I think of today as I watched that not-a-baby-anymore-Ethan glide a Razor scooter down the sidewalk, barefoot, sporting his daily attire of plaid shorts and t-shirt. The neighbor even commented on Ethan's Polynesian blood because he never wears shoes and the only time he sees him in pants or a long shirt is at church. How life fast goes when I think that someday soon, Ethan will be carrying Damon around, and Damon will be wearing an outfit that Ethan used to run around giggling in. How fast life goes...and what a good life it has been! He may not be that little baby anymore, but he's still my Ethan.

And now it's Brookie's turn to make some lasting memories watching happy Damon grow up wearing those clothes! Full circle.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop to look around once in awhile, you could miss it. ~ Ferris Bueller