It’s February and the theme for BlogHer’s National Blog Post Month where blogger’s post daily is Perspective.
Although I swore off posting daily after completing the challenge of NaBloPoMo last November, I changed my mind when I read the theme…so once again I am diving into the waters of blogging daily, only this time I am letting myself off the hook if I miss a day. Of course my intention is to contribute something daily even if it is only a photo…but like I said, if I miss a day? The world will most certainly not come to an end.
Perspective is something as a human being I am always reaching for. I often try to see another persons point of view, sometimes that is easy, while other times I struggle. Yet perspective doesn’t only appear in thought, it can also be achieved visually through photography.
When we arrived at the school last night for our son’s soccer game, one of the last he will play as this is his senior year, the sun was making its descent in the sky. Climbing from the car I was taken by the beauty cast over us and in that moment I took this picture with my phone:
We have parked along these sidewalks for years–first with our oldest Max, who graduated back in 2005–now with Kodiak, who will graduate this June and finally in 2016, our daughter Chandler will close out what has become our seasonal trek to sporting events in which they compete.
Sometimes I feel as if time has stood still, these moments in isolation can feel the same much in the way as is depicted in the movie, Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray wakes up to the same day over and over again.
Yet when my eyes fixed upon the sun I was struck by the notion that every sunset has its own unique show to put on. Moments, although they may have things in common, aren’t the same at all. My children are all different. Each coach that they have had is different. And even Jimmy and I, as we have aged, are different.
As I stood there watching the sun sink lower I was caught by the significance of an ending.
June crawls nearer and I feel my heart contract over the thought of watching a second child graduate. Of course I celebrate his independence. I look forward to the trickling in of college news and watching how each decision he makes will continue to shape the man he will become. On another level I realize the close of this chapter in his life will also bring a major shift in our respective roles as his parents.
Yet all that can wait–for now–just as I soaked in the warmth of the fading daylight last night–I choose to soak in these moments, hours, days and yes even the remaining months, as the mother of my high school age son.