Erin brought the ponies outside (My Little Pony) with the Fisher Price manger from Christmas. I brought up two laundry baskets of toys from the basement. Toys that had been shelved away during a house sale. Ten months of life packed away.
She held a pony in her hand and said, "My pony's going to take a honk-shoo." Which is code for a snoring nap. Erin likes to imitate Shane's snoring with a rumble in her throat to a shushing "shooo". Our laughter pierced the quiet of the back yard.
The girls ran around tonight with neighbor friends until their feet were dirty and grassy, their skin clammy from the humid night. I got them inside for cool drinks and preparations for bed. I stood in the kitchen with my hand on the refrigerator handle, looking at these two little girls. Looking at them with the backdrop of this kitchen. I wondered if I would remember this moment. If I would remember the details, the color of the counter top, the feel of the fridge handle, the breath-catching gulping sounds of my littles, their running chatter of things to do.
These seconds turning to minutes, slipping away like vapor. My grasping mind clutching desperately: do not forget four ... do not forget eight ... do not forget this slice of wonderful life. A weighty week of wanting to remember it all, knowing soon we'll be painting new walls, making a new home, making new memories. This first house fading, fading; this childhood time like vapor I can't hold. Wishing I could go back and replay everything, everything wonderful.
My throat feels tight.