Yesterday was Evie's 7 month birthday. People say that time flies; I don't think that's an accurate analogy. It doesn't fly it sneaks by unbidden like a ninja, stealing away valuable moments in the darkness of shadows. Yesterday we enjoyed Christmas with my in-laws and in those precious moments of family Evie turned 7 months old and I never realized 7 months were already stolen away. And now in just 3 days the new year will begin, I have been putting some thought into what I want this year to bring and I realized I don't know when I last made plans for a year, but that's a lie; I do know.
3 years ago when I was pregnant with Gabbie we made plans. We made plans to have a baby girl. We made plans to sell our house to buy a 4 bedroom house in the suburbs. We made plans for the year. But time, like a ninja, stole those plans in the shadows of a night in April, and I awoke and all those plans no longer mattered. That 4 bedroom house became a series of apartments, a place to suit the need of a place to stay. Sure we made them home, but it's always been a borrowed home.
But now, I've been thinking again about the future and that ninja. I want the girls to grow and know a place to call home. I want them to think about the events that time steals away with fondness and have a home as the backdrop for those moments. I want them to grow up in a house that is ours. I want to steal back those moments. I want to give to Evie the moments that Gabbie will never have, and resume with the plan that has been on hold for the girls for the last 2 years 8 months and 3 days. I want to make plans to buy a house like we had planned to do when we had Gabbie. The thought brings tears to my eyes that roll gently down my cheek.
As I say that though, as I think about making a true plan to buy a house, I have terrible anxiety. Time is a ninja: a dangerous threatening shadow that steals away dreams and moments and life. My inner defenses say that if I make plans I'm setting myself up for heartache, disappointment, pain. But life cannot stop for fear of something that is always there. Time may be a ninja but often it just stands silently in the recesses of the moment and observes. I cannot always fear it.
My heart is in my throat. Let's proceed with the plan, ninja be damned.
