How desperately I want to remember.Throughout life, a lot of attention is paid to the "big" moments like birthdays and physical milestones. As kids, we slowly become more and more aware of our surroundings, but what's left when we are adults are usually only fragmented memories of childhood.
As we grow, hopefully we start to grow out of our addiction to birthdays and milestones. We start to see flowers and birds and a lovers' eyes as more important than getting a drivers's licence, graduating from college, getting married, or even having a baby. For those big moments are usually so jam-packed with a million little moments, we simply cannot grasp the enormity of it all. Maybe this is why these big events are important to capture.
I've always trained my eyes to pay attention to the big moments - hell, I've even somehow trained myself to live for them, to set my heartbeat to them.
It's becoming painfully clear to me
that you need a different set of seeing eyes for motherhood.
Maybe that's even too narrow of a scope.
Maybe you need a different set of seeing eyes for adulthood.
It is the Friday mornings of Bowie's life that I want to remember. And I sit in the living room, warming my hands with coffee as the computer boots up for the day of work ahead of me. Joel is taking Bowie to school today. I walked by a moment ago, and she stands on the bathroom counter while Joel wrangles her hair into pigtails. She has a toothbrush in her mouth, but she more bites it than brushes her teeth. She is singing the theme song from "Winnie the Pooh" and mixing up 'willy,' 'nillly', and 'silly.'
|Bowie's first time drawing a 'B' on her own. We were dining at Via Tribunali in Fremont.|
And this urge to make myself notice and remember these smallest of moments comes over me. And I realize I can't remember it all. And I despair.
The continued search for the profound
is buried in the details, it seems.