Freeze the Moment
As soon as we had our first baby, a little girl, Quinn started calling family members to share the news. I was holding her in my arms, completely taken in and amazed by her, feeling that my heart was far too small to contain all the love that had just surged into it.
Quinn handed me the phone to talk to my dad. After he checked on me and heard the baby stats, he said, “Well, next week you’ll be sewing her prom dress.”
What a weird thing to say. It took me out of my place in time for a split second, and though it felt foreign, I knew he was right. I knew there would come a day when I would wonder where the time had gone. But right that minute, I couldn’t think of anything but a tiny, perfect child who would be my baby forever.
That was 10 years ago. I’m starting to get glimpses of what people mean when they say they want to freeze time.
We naturally freeze it in our minds, with songs that take us back to college. Smells that make you four years old, standing in your grandma’s kitchen. Photos that bring back your wedding day. Handwritten letters that make you treasure an old friendship. Even weather changes that make you swear it’s football season.
Moments, even entire eras of our lives, move so quickly that it seems cruel. Some elements are so meaningful that they should naturally be given more time. They should be allowed to stay a little longer.
So we try to make them. We write things down. We make videos. We take pictures—lots and lots of pictures. We keep mementos. We make sure that we never forget.
Our kids never tire of looking at photos of themselves and of people they know. They don’t tire of stories. Even from infancy, they have the drive to connect and never forget.
Life really does speed along, especially the best parts of it. As much as we long to, we can’t freeze time. All we can do is freeze moments and remember.