This Story

This summer as I've watched my 3 littles play together - laugh, run and chase, Sammy crawling always behind, trying desperately to keep up, I've tried to slow myself down and drink it all in.  As friends have been over and games have been played, days at the beach have come and gone with children splashing, exploring, I've felt my heart swell with joy, remembering days gone past.

This is their joy.  These are their memories.  This is their childhood.  Our story.

I so fondly recall my childhood playing with nieces and nephews (we were like cousins), church friends, school friends, on and on, under the distant eye of mom and dad or older sister/brother.  We played, created, imagined day in and day out, waiting till the last moment to stop, till I heard that tone in my dad's voice that implied "I mean it this time" or my mother come out with the middle name, "Kellie Leigh we're leaving!"

Summer that seemed to last forever with one day blurring into the next, waiting for the next moment to play again.  I've arrived again, but on the other side.  I'm the one calling the middle name, giving one more chance, keeping them always under distant's watch.  I watch them and remember myself and relive the story.

What will they remember?  As day blurs into day while they're little, what lasting impression will be made in their hearts, on their minds?  These tiny moments all turned into a lifetime.