tucked away in the corner of our counter, i spotted the thrifted vintage pitcher i got a couple weeks prior. i hastily walked over to put it in it's new home in our cabinet, when i stopped for a moment. it was just too pretty to hide behind a cheese grater and ice cream dishes. so i grabbed a pot, began filling it with water, and went to retrieve the tea bags out of the pantry. then i stopped again. my memory raced back to the summers of my childhood. playing in the front yard, writing with chalk on the sidewalk, all while my mom's pitcher of tea sat brewing in the sun. i loved that tea. i loved the whole process. i can't even really remember why. it's not exciting by any means, but i remember it and i remember loving it. so i poured out the water, put away the pot, loaded up the pitcher and took it out to the backyard. i placed it in the sun and sat there for a moment. i began to feel nostalgic. i allowed myself to venture back to the sweetness and simplicity of letting tea brew in the sun. gatsby trotted over to me, licked my cheek, then plopped on my lap and moaned. i scratched his belly and kissed the top of his head. the quiet felt good and familiar.
after a few more moments in the sun, i lazily walked back into the house to check on brielle. she remained dreaming on the crisp white sheets. her long legs stretched out. i smiled at the rolls in them. my chunky girl. she has acquired so many more rolls since the day she became ours. i suddenly became nostalgic again. not for my childhood, but for brielle's. time is already fleeting fast. our precious babe is blooming quickly. we are rapidly approaching the 3 month mark, and my heart is already mourning her infancy. every day, every milestone is bittersweet. she is such a little person already. so silly, and strong, and soooo independent. i'm loving every moment of it. i love seeing her grow. but i miss yesterday, i miss last month, i miss march 9th. our big girl likes to be held facing the world now. she fusses and squirms when i try to hold her like a baby, in the crook of my arm, where she spent the first weeks of her life. i find myself constantly awaiting her next feeding. that's when we get to slow down time. she finds her old familiar place in that crook, and we are both still. skin to skin. i can sit and enjoy the fact that for now, God has blessed me with the job of being her source of nourishment. no green beans or sweet peas. just mama, helping her grow. and sometimes, when i feel her body soften and her chubby cheek squish on my shoulder, i delay putting her down to nap. the dishes can wait five more minutes. i just want to hoard every sweet moment while they are here.
as much as i am grasping on to her youth, i am excited for her future. i am excited to adventure with her and make memories for her to keep. i am excited to help her create a childhood to be nostalgic for. but for now, i want to do life slowly. i want to let the tea brew in the sun. maybe one day, when life is hectic and brielle has a home and a husband and a baby of her own, she will remember the long hot summer days, writing with chalk on the sidewalk, and waiting for that tea. maybe then, she too will choose to do life slowly.
