Good times go so fast. I took this photograph a week ago of my son and my three grandchildren on the rocks in front of our Maine cottage. The fog was just lifting, so hopes were high that the "messing about in boats" could begin. The sun did shine and the "messing" began.
As I stood on the porch, getting this image into focus, I was looking at the fifth and sixth generations to stand on these rocks. I am the fourth. Each of us has come to this place in the first months of our lives. While I know I am blessed to watch my grandchildren and children experience the beauty of this place and honor its heritage,I am also acutely aware of the fleeting moments.
This morning, I watched my son's car pull out of the driveway headed for home, and tears streamed down my face. I did not want to shed them, but there they were reminding me of how fast the previous five days had flown by. The solace was, we didn't squander any of them.
We laughed around the dinner table, we played a card game that we play every year, we rowed the boats, swam in what we never admit is frigid water, held hands so we wouldn't slip in the seaweed, took in just about everything our surroundings offered and acknowledged how precious it was to have three generations under one roof. The hustle of the good times continues, friends and family are ready to make more happy memories for the next few weeks.
My nostalgia lingers, though. I try to push it away, but the memories of the recent week and years past creep into my thoughts. For now, I need to sit with them--just for awhile. Not so long that they dampen the happy times ahead, but long enough to absorb the echoes of the laughter and the conversations-a respectful pause to relish memories, thereby making them less fleeting.