The Bitter-Sweet Fragrance of Childhood...

Oh how I love to smell my kids. It sounds so strange, but I think most mothers understand what I mean. The smell of their skin, their hair, their clothes, is something I find intoxicating. When I hold them against me I close my eyes and get completely lost in the scent and the feeling of closeness that warms me from my skin straight down to my heart. The love is so intense it is actually painful. My son and I have a little routine where after his bath I hoist him out of the tub all wrapped in his towel, and as I'm drying him off I pull him close, tickle him and tell him in a funny voice, "You little stinker, you stop growing so fast, I mean it you stop that right now!" He tells me in no uncertain terms between giggles and belly laughs that no, he will not stop growing. I know he's right, and the thought creates such a confusing mixture of yearning for past, present and future with a knowledge that as one is gained the other must go never to return. To him it is a fun ritual. He has no idea that as he is lost in the hilarity of the moment I am pulling in the scent of his clean skin as deeply as possible and aching inside to the core of my being. When I cuddle my daughter as close as two can be, I feel that each of us is as lost in the moment as the other one, in complete and utter contentment. We become almost like one, melting into each other, but I know each of us has a completely different set of thoughts swirling through our heads. While she is filled with a sense of security I am struggling with a deep angst at the realization that I cannot stop the hands of time. One day I will not have these moments. True, I will have new and wonderful ones, and for that I am in grateful anticipation. Still, the grief over these moments that keep slipping from my grasp is no less painful. It's all so bitter-sweet....