What If I Had Known?

This morning, my Facebook Memories brought up a photograph of my husband and my son going to their first Cub Scout meeting, eight years ago today. 

As I thought back over their eight years together in Cub Scouts and then in BSA Scouting, I wondered: If I had known then that we only had eight more years together, what would I have done differently?

Would I have told him, "I love you" more often? Not really; I did that a lot. In fact, I'm pretty sure the last words I ever said to him were, "I love you!" (He knew.)

Would I have tried to schedule more trips and family adventures? I'd say we did pretty well on that score, too: we did educational trips, horizon-broadening trips, exciting trips, fun trips, cultural trips, international trips. 

Would I have taken more family photos, both formal and informal? I'm pretty sure we had that one more well-covered than most families. 

Would I have wanted him to be more involved with and supportive of our children's activities and lives? Nope, that one was definitely covered, and then some. 

Would I have encouraged us to form more family traditions that we could look back on? I'm not sure what more we could have done. 

We spent plenty of time with family, with friends (ours and theirs), with our community. 

Honestly, we lived life to the fullest. We had everything but time. But I don't regret a single thing that we fit into the time we had, and I don't regret a single thing that we left out. We lived. We loved. We celebrated. We made memories. 

It could never be enough, but it's enough. 

Therapy Walk

When my children were small, we had a tradition of going for a walk at the beginning of every season and looking for signs of the new season. In the spring, we'd look for crocuses, buds on trees, Easter decorations, and baby birds. In the winter, we'd look for frost on leaves, snow shovels next to doors, people wearing mittens and scarves, squirrels with extra-bushy tails, and Christmas decorations. In the summer, we'd look for baby bunnies, vegetable gardens, open swimming pools, and beach toys. And in the fall, we'd look for changing leaves, dormant gardens, Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations, and school buses. When they got old enough to use a simple camera, I'd have them take pictures of what they saw. 

I hadn't planned on taking a "seasonal walk" this morning, especially when I got up to dreary skies and light rain, but once the kids were off to school and I had gotten myself ready to face the day, I had the urge to go for a walk. Since I live directly across the street from a beautiful park and bike trail, I simply grabbed my phone and walked out the door. As I headed down my front walkway, I noticed how pretty the raindrops were on the purple asters I had just bought for the planters, and I thought of those photo walks we used to take. So I took out my phone and began to look for not just signs of the season, but for the beauty of even a dreary early fall day. 

It became a kind of therapy as I actively searched for the beauty in the darkness around me. It felt symbolic of my life right now. Things are still dreary, but I am beginning to be able to look beyond the rain and see the beauty that is still all around me. 

Walk with me, and enjoy the beauty.