What A Mother Sees




Sometimes life is not what we pictured it to be. Sometimes it’s better, when we step back and take in the whole, pieced together thing.

There are days I feel like I am sitting in a car or maybe a train, and the moments of my life are whizzing by me like the trees, the houses, small buildings and tall mountains; like the oceans, the silhouettes of cars and people behind sunsets, all passing before me out the window. I try to stare at them hard, attempting to grasp their image, to take it all in during the nano-seconds they appear before me before out the window and just before they disappear. I know I must look quickly, for the moment is gone and out of sight in an instant, only to be replaced with another silhouette and more to see, more to take in.

In these bursts, these flashes of tiny slivers, my entire life sometimes seems to stretch across the window before me. I don’t want to miss anything, but deep down I know. There is a futility in trying to catch everything. I see my loves. I want to be the best mother I know how to be, the best wife, friend, person- outside that window where I only can catch glimpses, and those are never long enough for life to slow down. There is so much to take in, and there will be so much more. I know I am going to miss some of it. I just want to remember, to seize with my mind’s eye, most of the really beautiful parts out there beyond the glass. I want to be able to make a mosaic of the most important parts from the pieces I can grasp with my eyes and hold in my heart as they dash back out of sight, through the window and down the road that keeps speeding by without asking what I want.

There are scenes I’d like to forget, silhouettes I don’t even recognize as I gaze out the glass, searching for something I do. But I know my chance is small, the window of opportunity fleeting, to capture the best parts for my mosaic that make up the picture of all the really worthwhile moments. They are so often the small ones, the ones I thought surely I’d forget, or couldn’t see well behind the sun’s glare or the cloud’s cast. I want time to slow down, but then never stop, all in the same instant.

I hope I never forget what to look for beyond that window, past the blur of a life that moves too quickly and changes too fast. To see what’s out there waiting, to show me all the best things behind the silhouettes; waiting for me to appreciate, if even just for an instant, that it was special, important, and worthwhile in my ride that sometimes feels like it’s whizzing by.