I’ve been wanting to photograph these pocket watches for a long time, never getting the opportunity until a couple of weeks ago. They belong to my father in law. He loves watches and knows how to take them apart and fix them. He has all these gears and tiny pieces, it’s fascinating. It’s probably why my husband is also a Mr Fix it. He can fix anything! It’s a blessing and a curse. He can always find a way to save my old and treasured pieces or mementos. But then, he can also fix old eye-sore appliances. “Honey! It was simply a hose!” Then, it’s a strap or whatever he found that could be replaced, sigh… But I digress.
I originally wanted to write about time. The one the anxious in me sees slipping away like sand through one’s fingers. Have you noticed how experiences seem reversed at some point through parenthood? There are all those exciting first times, first smile, first step and first “I love you”.
Later comes the sneaky last times. The ones you never saw coming and that hit you like a ton of bricks. The last storytime in bed. One day, they’ll just go to bed like it never happened, and the worst thing is, you might just not notice. You never expected that last time was really the LAST time.
That just scares me like crazy. Honestly, I’m not built to deal with this. At least that’s what I tell myself. I always manage to overcome my fears when the time comes, but the doubt is still lurking just below the surface. One just makes it through in the hopes that the first times or last times are remembered and treasured as part of something bigger and precious.
Motherhood is made of thousands of little joys and miracles and thousands of griefs and losses. There’s really nothing quite like it, and even though I’m still scared daily, it’s still the most amazing of journeys.
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