Last night, at 10pm, everyone was sleeping, Elizabeth and I were still awake on the couch, and she was reading me passages from her Warriors book. At times, she would pause in her reading, lean over, and whisper some of the backstory in my ear, then sit back up and continue reading to me again.
Elizabeth is going into 5th grade this year, and that means middle school in Manchester. She won’t be reading like this to me for much longer, and if she does, that little whisper of a backstory will be the first to go. It is the last whisper of her elementary school youth.
Sometimes, I have these little fantasies of going back in a time machine, punching in a specific day and time, or just flying random, and arriving, for just a moment, to squeeze those chubby legs again, and hold their little rolly polly giggling bodies, and feel their warm, soft hair on the side of my cheek, and be able to kiss a boo-boo away, then come right back to my present, because I don’t want to miss that either. But, the only time machine I own right now is my memory, so I will continue on with my very own mental time travel for the time being.
So, right now, I will hold on to the whisper. And, I will feel both happy and sad about it. Happy, because it is my very own now to enjoy to the fullest, and sad, because all to soon, it will be another memory to visit. Yet, in that way, I find sadness a very beautiful emotion indeed.