It was a Turtle Park evening, for sure.
We loaded up and headed off and eventually, after talking Jack out of investigating each. and. every. rock he could find to see if they were "breakable", we made the 20 minute walk and ensconced ourselves at the park.
I know I've taken you all to Turtle Park before. Its the one with the big, green turtle in the middle. And the lovely fence alllll the way around and the sweet little climber that's just right for the 18 month to 5 year old set. And all the shovels and pails and random, defunct toys and cars lying all over for the playing. And swings!
It's pretty much perfect.
And so was our time there, tonight. I consciously did not bring the camera with me because I wanted to be fully present with my children and the sunshine, and sometimes being busy documenting moments-- takes away from the living of them. But wouldn't you know, being fully present seems to make me more aware of just how "picture-perfect" the moments really are. Sigh.
I'm just going to have to remember it.
It's been a while since we've made the trek, seeing as Jack-man can handle Cumberland and Coventry park playgrounds now, and we can get to those in 3 or 6 minutes respectively. It was remarkable to see how the kids have grown in that time, against the background of this little park that always stays the same.
Jack climbed up onto the turtle today. His first time doing it completely by himself. And he did it so casually, no help from me at all; I wasn't even watching and only noticed when I turned from pushing Ivy on the swing, to see him sitting proudly up on the turtle's head. So very, very proud, his little Jack-smile shining at me across the whole playground. There he was just like that and it took my breath away. Not because he was so high up; I had no fear for his safety because there's that wonderful thing about Jack, that he rarely does things he can't already do...
No, I caught my breath at the pace of time, at the way the last 4 years have flashed by. I caught my breath seeing the baby not-yet-walking, not sure of the sand, cautiously exploring a few square feet of ground; seeing the toddler mastering the steps and the slide; seeing the three year old pretending and digging and singing his way around the place. And now this young man, so tall and put together and up on top of the most challenging climber in the place, like it was nothing. Somehow, that was everything, 4 years rolled into one moment, time wrapped up with a bow on top of a giant, fiberglass turtle.
He played happily with a 6-ish year old girl for the better part of an hour, while I followed Miss Into-Everything-Ive around. That one? She can climb up and down all the steps of the climber using only the handrails. She can zip down the slide all on her own. She can push herself around on the little ride-on toys and fill a sand bucket with ease.
This little girl seems bent on picking up the pace even more. She's already got her eye on the turtle, and I know it won't be long.
By then her brother will have aged out of this park-- the posted signs tell me it's for 5 and under only, please. And it boggles my mind that the time is coming so soon, when I won't list this tiny plot of land as a destination on a fall evening any more. When I won't stand around watching other people's children clamber about with my own, chatting with the moms and asking how old their babies are. That time- it is hurtling toward me with unstoppable force.
And so tonight, in the fall sunshine, sitting at a picnic table with a catalog in my hand, watching my children explore and play and grow before my eyes, I froze time for just a moment. I savored it all, broken toys and scrambling children, diverse families scattered about and my babies in the midst of it. And I didn't take any pictures.
I'll just have to remember.
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