a saturday morning thought

there was a time this weekend when robert and i were driving in town on saturday morning. it was too early to be up (robert is the only person who could convince me of the delicious, soul-strengthening power of sleeping in on saturday morning. that pocket of perfect nothingness), but there we were. cruising down main street with the early birds, meeting my parents and sister for breakfast.

and i had a sort of early memory. a happy sort of sadness that comes with the realization that life is so fast. that one day, this family will look incredibly different and that's neither a necessarily bad or good thing, but an honest one. it reminded me of a time, riding in the back of my parents' van, that i looked up at the people sitting in the rows before me and thought to myself, remember this. remember your sister in middle school and your brother with the shaggy hair and skateboard. remember your mom and dad as laughing and young and pretty. and remember yourself as happy, in the backseat with your book.

we've added some people to the van in recent years, and lost one incredible man. and leaving them that morning, driving back home to get  back into the covers, i realized that the journey is really the best part. and there will be changing faces, and spaces. and shifts and swaps. and big gigantic leaps out of the car. but there will be forward motion, and that's the beautiful part about it.