Time Finally Begins to Race
I won't lie. Ever since Scout was born, I've felt that time has crawled by. Someone would say, "The time goes by so fast, doesn't it!" and I would respond, "Not really. I feel like she should be at least 10 by now." Even when she was a delightful two-year-old who completely skipped the "Terrible Twos," I felt that time was crawling.
No more. And I don't think it has anything to do with Scout's age. I think it has everything to do with my miracle drug. I try to think about what life was like before it, and I can barely even take myself there. Because here is such a better place. I'm not high or loopy or some other version of myself. I'm just normal. Sad that I have to take a miracle drug to be normal, but oh well. I didn't want to succumb to yet another pill, but I was tired and I caved. But now I'm glad I did. I think Hubster and Scout and my parents and the rest of my family are even more thankful.
Anyway, about time a-flyin'. The other day, I watched Scout as she sang a song she made up and got all misty-eyed, thinking, "I just want to freeze time right now and keep her at this age, never to grow up." Folks, I have never thought that. On the contrary, I've thought, "She's a cute baby and everything, but can't she be 10 already?" It's because I was so tired and felt so hopeless. But now that I'm better, it seems that time can't go slowly enough. And that's good.
The last few days of my life have been some of my happiest of recent years. On Thursday, I met with a writer who critiqued one of my stories and we discussed how I could improve on it. He looked past the writing (which was pretty good, if I may be so bold) and called it a "non-story." For some reason, I was happy to hear that. I'd suspected it needed more "plot," but I was at a loss of how to give it more. It's frustrating to know that you have all these writing skills but can't set up a simple plot. (Part of it is that I've read too many postmodern/literary/plotless short stories.)
So it's strange that I liked hearing a somewhat negative critique of that aspect of my story. It was affirming (in a weird way) to be told there was what the big shortcoming was and discuss ways to rectify it. (It was affirming because I agreed with him, at least once the smarting of the criticism wore off!)
Also on Thursday, Scout's new sleeping bag came in the mail. She was so excited. We set up the tent in the basement and "camped out" for two nights. And then, on Saturday night, we went to Camp Daniel Boone and camped outside. She was so excited. She loves to camp outside. Even though she got too cold in the night and had to crawl in my 20-degree mummy bag with me, she still had a great time.
The next morning, Hubster had to shuttle some hikers to the Davidson River trailhead of the Art Loeb Trail. Scout and I were on our own. It was the most beautiful, clear day, and the mountains circling the camp were absolutely breathtaking. Scout and I ran back and forth across the camp's parade grounds, chasing each other, twirling until we fell down, and just having fun.
On the way home, she said she wanted to go to the bookstore. The bookstore in our town is closed on Sundays, so we stopped in Waynesville at Blue Ridge Books. After a snack in their cafe, we went to their children's corner, and Scout sat on my lap while I read her book after book.
I got all misty-eyed a couple of times that day, getting that old wish that I could freeze time.
What a great day we had. Last night, she said, "Mommy, the best part of my day was playing with you all day."
I told her I thought playing with her all day was kind of fun, too. ;-)