On the Wings of Spring

Spring has sprung, and the older I get, each season appears faster than the last. Where does the time go, and why does it seem so fleeting after the fact rather than when we’re in it? Contemplating this, I’m reminded of a trip to the grocery store when our firstborn was just 10 months old. As I pushed him along the aisles in a grocery cart, I noticed a woman with a newborn and felt compelled to remark, “Enjoy it all! It goes by so quicky.”

There I was, some lady with less than a year of parenthood under her belt, commenting on time that had barely passed. My son was just an infant, but in that moment, he seemed so old compared to the newborn. 

And now look where we are—another spring, another son will soon finish high school, and Michael and I will be empty nesters (you’ll hear all about that in the September issue). Like an arrow released from the bow, the clocks spring forward, as does life, trying to hit its target. Where has the time gone? How is this me? How is this woman who dreamed of being a Mother and dove into the title with complete and utter joy now stepping into this next spring, not in revival mode, but in readjusting mode? The new normal is looming.

Ah, and there it is, the last of the firsts. It’s nature’s countdown of our cycle of life. Readjusting about what’s to come and the impending question hanging over my head, “How can I process that this is the last spring of having a child at home?” There, I said it out loud; that’s what this spring is shouting at me, and how I react to it will guide me toward a greater purpose in life

The “who am I now” question is a springboard toward my next chapter. Motherhood has defined me in a way that I never imagined or would ever want to be taken away. But who was I before? And even more importantly, who am I to become? That’s the overall beauty of spring; when the earth starts a new cycle, humans also have the same opportunity for growth, prosperity and new beginnings.

Spring will take on a new meaning for me now, to watch the fruits of our labor prosper and see where this Mother bird will fly on the new wings of spring.

Always in health, Cyrece