Time moves us forward without our permission. If we don’t want to look back with regret, we should stop worrying about the future and focus on the present moment, extracting joy from each unschool day before it disappears.
The carol bird has gone. Maybe a week or so ago, he flew away when I wasn’t looking.
Each year, I try to pinpoint the day the carol bird leaves our village and flies north. So far, I’ve failed. One morning, I realise I haven’t heard him recently, but how many days have passed since I last listened to his repetitive call? I have no idea.
It’s hard to predict when the carol bird will migrate north because I haven’t yet worked out what prompts him to go. It can’t be a fall in temperature because our summer days are still hot. Could it be daylight? Recently, the number of hours between sunrise and sunset fell to 14. Perhaps that’s the signal for the bird to pack up and leave.
So, the carol bird is no longer singing to me. It’s strange how I didn’t miss him for a few days. Maybe I took his presence for granted, thinking he’d be singing to me forever. But now that I’ve realised the bird is no longer here, I miss him. There’s a hole in the soundtrack of my day that he used to fill.
There are other things that I used to experience every day that disappeared without my permission. They slipped away before I could say, “This is the last time I’ll experience this.” I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.
A few years ago, I ran with the complete Team for the last time. On that day, which seemed like any other, I didn’t know that four daughters and a mother would never again lace up their running shoes, grab their water bottles and head out the door at 6 am as the sun was rising. For the previous few months, one or more girls were missing from our daily runs because of work commitments, but there were always a few days here and there when we all enjoyed running through the bush together. Until there wasn’t. Only when I looked back did I realise that this era of our life was over.
Immersed in memories of high fives, smiles, encouraging words, and tired but satisfied bodies, I wish those running days had lasted forever. I didn’t choose to move on from them. Time jolted me forward. It always travels at its pace, not mine.
It’s the same for everyone. Life changes whether we want it to or not.
So what do we do?
We savour every day, looking for the joy contained in each moment. We slow down and soak it all in.
We don’t spoil the present moment by worrying about the future. We keep our eyes on the kids in front of us today, and while they’re with us, we spend time with them, making sure they know we love them unconditionally and are glad they’re who they are and we’re their parents. One day, like the carol bird, maybe when we’re not paying attention, they’ll fly away. When they next return, it won’t be the same. That era of our life will be over.
So, don’t have any regrets. Focus on the most important things of life.
Love unconditionally. Give thanks. Be brave. Unschool.
I’m glad that’s what we did.
And I’m glad the carol bird will be back next spring.
Will We Have Done Enough?
If you wonder if you’re doing enough, tempted to spend your days cramming as much knowledge into your kids as possible instead of slowing down and focusing on the moment you’re currently experiencing, maybe you’d like to read the following post:
Image
I’m savouring life with my youngest daughter while I can. Gemma-Rose and I enjoyed two mother-daughter weekends in Sydney last year. We’ve already booked our hotel accommodation for our next visit. I took this photo while we were cruising Sydney Harbour just before Christmas.
With misty eyes I re-read this post and love the sentiments. Thank you, Sue.
Staci,
It sounds like you’re familiar with last times, too. Our hearts ache a bit as we realise we’ll never experience something ever again, don’t they? But, fortunately, there are always new delights ahead of us when we have to leave the old ones behind.
I hope all is well with you, my friend! xxx