a full heart

I wish I could turn back the hands of time.  

I'd do it.  In a heartbeat.   

I'd rewind to the night before I dropped the kiddos off at day care for the very first time.  October 2006.  I distinctly remember crying as they were snug in bed and I was painting their names on their blankets.  Red for the K-boy.  Green for the K-girl.   I used Memory Makers big foam letters [still love them!] to make their blankets special.  Creative play to soothe my sad momma heart.  I would hug both of them tighter and tighter and remind them not to skip through childhood too quickly. 

I'd listen to my dad as he spoke about auto mechanics and how to fix this or that on a car.  I just had no interest then, but still find myself wanting to ask him what to do about that.  I did learn a few country fixes from him and always knew he'd lovingly repair whatever was broken.

I'd take my time, walking through the lake park with Lonnie, taking in every single moment wrapped up in his heart.  Holding hands.  Sharing dreams.  Step by step, side by side, heart in heart.

I'd sit back on the couch and watch as the kiddos danced to the Wiggles or High Five.  And we'd sing "... driving in the big red car ... wake up, Jeff!" or excitingly say "secret fort club handshake" as we begged to enter the makeshift living room fort of bedsheets. 

I'd hold my mom's hand one more time, looking at the wrinkles and the lines of a life well-loved and well-lived.  The golden wedding band and the green jade rings are remembered most.  She always wore gold.  Or gaudy handmade jewelry we'd made through the years of crafting experiences and fun. And, I'd pick a deep, dark pearly purple iris from her yard. 

I'd look at all the handsful of Power Ranger colored toys the K-boy carried around with him.  Markers, blocks, cars, fish tank pebbles, Little People.  Always --- red, blue, green, yellow and pink.

I'd let K-girl prance around on the dining room table [a makeshift runway stage] in the many silly outfits she'd put together.  Her fashion imagination was, and still is, over the top artsy and cool and frilly and glitzy and colorful. 

I'd lay in the hospital bed, awaiting the birth of the kiddos, remembering how much of a blessing they both have been and still are to this day.   The utter joy and peaceful love overwhelms me as I remember seeing their sweet faces after birth.  Beautiful.

I'd erase the traumatic horror from the K-girl's memory of the night she found me lying on the ground after I had blacked out. Scared.  Both of us.  But I'd still be so very thankful that her shriek woke me up, though I still couldn't see. 

I'd go back to every single moment --- so many moments! --- when I thought about how great life was and how blessed I am.  I'd smile from my heart and know that I truly have been blessed in so many ways. 

Since there is no way to turn back time, I march forward with a vivid memory of such events and stories and more. 

And a full heart.