There is a bag of Kona coffee someone brought back from the islands for us sitting on our kitchen counter. It is old- it has been in the freezer for months. Needless to say, it doesn't taste very good- but, I was desperate for a cup the other day and now I feel guilty throwing it away. So, it sits on our counter. Every time I see it there, it reminds me of Kauai and I long for my honeymoon. Not that life was perfect then, but those times are gone, I can only return to them by way of memories. The smell, the heavy air, roosters crowing, the grove of trees we drove through to get to Poipu, the pace, the hippies, the seclusion, the sense of having disappeared, the water.
The point is, sometime I'll long for these days again. Days when this tiny girl depends on us for her every need. Whose life and personality are just beginning to be seen and known. The quiet moments nursing her, the irritating moments nursing her, the 3am wailing sessions for no apparent reason. All these will pass. She's starting to get chunky, her face is filling out, her bald spot is growing back in and she smiles and coos. She's almost too big for the Baby Bjorn. I find myself already a bit nostalgic for those first days, standing watch over every breath this brand new baby took, feeling so vulnerable myself, even as I took care of the utmost of fragile beings. Although you couldn't pay me enough to go back, now I understand why people have second children.
Even though I look forward with anticipation to the days when she sleeps through the night, when she can talk, when we can teach her things other than how to sleep and how to nurse, the challenge is to be right here, right now- and to treasure it. Because some day, not too far from now, something like a bag of coffee on the counter will make me long for it. And instead of holding my breath that the doorbell that just rang won't wake her up, I'll be holding my breath that school or work or a boy won't take her far away from me.