I wondered about that. Do our minds reserve a place for those moments in our lives when our children were babies? Moments that come to life and dance in our heads when we are fast asleep? Moments so real, so tangible, we can touch them with our fingertips? Moments that quickly hide somewhere in the recesses of our minds upon awakening?
My mother once told me that the time between when I was born and the time when I became an adult happened in the blink of an eye. Until her last breath, my mother, God love her, never stopped praying for me and never stopped being concerned about my welfare.
I remember catching a glimpse of my mother in the mirror while trying on my wedding gown. Her eyes, ever so slightly filling up with tears, were in a far, far away place as she watched me swirl my gown around in the dressing room.
I was 29 years old, but my mother, I believe, saw only the baby she once held in her arms, the baby who awaited her arrival in the crib after a nap, the baby who also may have made a little one-syllable sound, guttural in nature, that only she could understand.
I suspect now that my mother missed “those days” as well.
Bill Watterson, American artist and author of the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes once wrote: “I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can play together all night.”
I played with my baby girl that afternoon, even though she was 23 years old. And if I had slept just a little bit longer, just a little bit, I know we would have played long into the night.
Alvia Lewis Frey is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached at email@example.com.