It was a day of just us Rowley girls. And there was no school, no classes, no plan. And we just rolled with it, getting dressed, heading out into the crispness of fall, racing down the sidewalk toward the corner. I followed behind, pushing the stroller we won't need for much longer, watching you three. Watching you walk and wander and I found myself wishing achingly that I could stop time. And I know this is a very cliched thing for a mother to think and to write, but I felt it, a stinging sense of urgency that you must stop this, this growing and changing and becoming big. You must stop this.
It was a day. A day of sweet treats and snuggles and cartoons and words. We walked and walked and talked and talked.
Through it all - what's been and what's now and what's to come - know something and carry it with you: I am so in love with you three.
Have you ever felt the profound urge to stop time? If so, in what context?