There is a wooden motorcycle and a custom carved rocking horse in my son's room. Well, there was until last Saturday when we were cleaning. My son announced loudly and without preface that "the motorcycle and rocking horse are too babyish to be in my room anymore."
My husband is a pleaser....and well, a guy. A man. And like most men, they hear a problem, quickly come to a solution and the problem is solved. He picked up these childhood memories, carried them into the hallway, set them down and said, "okay, we'll move them to storage."
Problem - Solution - Done.
"I'm sorry. Did you just say "Okay, we'll move them to storage?" I blinked. My mouth hung like a loose cabinet door.
Just let that sink in a moment and hold on. I'm about to take you on a ride.
My mind raced ahead 20 years, no 30 years... and I realized that if we put the motorcycle and rocking horse in storage that the next time I saw these beautiful pieces of my son's childhood would be when he was married. I'm quick with calculations and I'm 90% sure my math is accurate. Eventually, he and his wife would want them for their newborn. This would be a cool, vintagey way to make my grandchild's nursery look like a throw back to Pottery Barn. What if my future-daughter in law, didn't like the pieces? Well! Really, THAT is ridiculous! Who wouldn't love these pieces? Frankly, if she didn't, then I would just create a nursery at Nana's house.
The kid will love it....and me.
I burst into tears. Standing in the hallway between the rocking horse and motorcycle, in my flannel pajamas, threadbare slippers and my hair twisted in a clumsy ponytail, I cried.
I was a supporting role in the saddest movie ever.
My husband looked at me and took a practiced deep breath. He's familiar with this type of sudden mood swing and has learned to adapt well. His determined wife, who just moments ago, announced that the rug wasn't clean enough and the sheets needed to be stripped off every bed and and since today was a productive cleaning day, we should clean out the closets too. This tireless woman was now a puddle of emotion in the hallway. The boy child had pierced her heart and she was a goner.
Our son shrugged. As he was walking out of his room, he mumbled under his breath, "Here she goes again."
My husband wrapped me in his reliable arms, kissed my forehead and said, "Where do YOU want to put them?"
After a good sobbing and a half a box of Kleenex, we made the decision to put our son's childhood on display in the guest bedroom.
When you come to visit, I'll show you the detailing on the custom carvings. I'll point out the two-toned wood and I'll have you feel the smoothness of the polished edges. And then I will show you a picture of our son when he was 3 or 4 years old going on a childhood ride.
It's going by too fast...and it hurts.
(Originally written November 2010)
Seeds to Share today:
Psalm 144:4 Man is like a mere breath; His days are like a passing shadow.
Ecclesiastes 1:4 A generation goes and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.