This week I looked back at the first year of our marriage which in a lot of ways seems like ages ago (big move, corporate job, 2 kids, 1 house, etc.). It struck me how much adventure we were seeking even then. We had the whole wide world open to us and we were leaping the best we knew how.
It seems like as we settled into life as parents (especially when there were 2) we fell into the same exhausted apathy that a lot parents of toddlers do. It seems like it's all you can do to put them to bed and flop lifelessly onto the couch. It's not that you want a boring life, but that is indeed what you are settling for without even knowing it.
Sure, there are moments of magic everyday–but I want my life to be lived with a magic that is evident. I want the overall arch of my story to be one of beauty and passion and adventure. Which, to be honest, seems to be the exact opposite of the life we're currently emerged in. Suburbia, corporate-cube jungle, preschool lotteries, etc.
And then I remember. I remember the magic of growing a little bean in my belly. I remember my husband's tears of joy when we found out "it" was a "he". I remember meeting him for the first time and realizing they were going to let us take him home (ummm…don't I have to pass some sort of parenting test or something?!). I remember those first exhausted weeks where I was bleary eyed and felt so connected to my new little family of 3. And then, before we knew it, we were doing the whole thing again. Another boy! A family of 4! Exhaustion! Joy!
My life, at it's end, will have been beautiful. It will have been full of magic. It will have been passionate and adventuresome. I'll see to it in the meantime. I'll watch with glittering eyes–and put it down on paper. Those moments of magic that make up our lifetime.