I catch myself thinking about the past often. On my way to work today I was thinking about last year. This time last year we were getting ready to celebrate Braeden’s first Christmas. I made a big deal about everything even though some told me he doesn’t understand everything. It didn’t matter. I wanted to plant those memories in my mind. I was preparing myself for the day he would look at me, oh I can just see those wide brown eyes with that beaming smile now, begging to hear stories of when he was a baby. I sat there through the mundane drive thinking about Braeden’s first Christmas. A smile planted on my face.
In a matter of moments, I was taken out of my happy place.
My heart spoke: his first Christmas, it’s over, his first Christmas is over, another first gone and past, I can’t get it back, it is forever a memory.
Wait. I made time and effort to remember everything, but I know there are missing parts. Parts I can’t ever get back.
I tried to swallow the tears.
I sat in the parking lot. Somehow my hand shifted the car to park. The sound of the radio came closer. I was back into reality.
I sat there. Thinking about Braeden.
About his second picture with Santa, but the first time he said “tanta”.
About his second time seeing a Christmas tree, but the first time he says “tree” and points to the ornaments “ball” “tanta” “doggie” (hey, reindeer can look like dogs) “star” “ihts”.
About his second time going to the tree in the morning, but the first time he will be able to run on his own.
About his second time opening presents, but the first time he will see them and be amazed and wonder how they got there.
About his second Christmas, but how it’s ok because there are different parts to celebrate and remember, new firsts.