Every now and then I get a little taste of what is to come.
A week of sunshine in March reminds me that summer is coming. We shed our layers of wool and remember what it is like to be too hot.
A focused burst of desk-work reminds me that my children are growing up. My daughter goes to her room to concentrate and comes out with a page of copywork she is truly proud of.
A run through the forest reminds me that my body really loves to be active. I discover that running without headphones and fast music is really quite enjoyable when I have the sounds of birds and trees to listen to instead.
Likewise, every now and then I get a taste of what I thought was past.
Waking up with a child on either side of me in bed, groggy from being woken up multiple times in the night.
Days full of a little person clinging, crying, demanding to be carried.
Coming across ice and snow while hiking, and having to turn back because it’s too difficult for us to continue to the summit together.
Going slow is full of tastes of what has come before and what is yet to come in earnest. It’s two steps forward and one step back. It’s waiting patiently for the seeds you’ve sown to sprout, and continuing to plan ahead and plant more for the days and months to come. It’s appreciating those little glimpses backwards instead of resenting them, because you never really know when it will be the last time.