Sundays tend to be busy days for us, and yesterday was no exception. Having spent all day Saturday at a track meet almost two hours away, we hadn't been able to do any of the usual weekend laundry, grocery shopping, and housecleaning, leaving it all to get accomplished in one day.
But it was such a beautiful day, too beautiful to waste by spending it indoors. The warm air and golden sunshine beckoned. We needed to go to the grocery store anyway, so my husband and I jumped in the car, but rather than head straight to the store around the corner, we made a detour to drive through a neighborhood in our town that we love where the houses are older, custom-built and more spread-out than the stereotypical suburban neighborhood we live in. My husband has had his eye on one house in particular for years. Each weekend we joke that this is the weekend there will be a "for sale" sign out front. I'm not sure what will happen if there ever really is one.
As we drove past a park, I couldn't help but remember the times we had taken our boys there when they were little. I could almost hear their laughter and sweet baby voices as I pictured putting them on the swings and pushing them as high as they dared to go. I felt a pang of regret that I hadn't taken them to the park more often. Those days were long behind us, never to be seen again.
"What would you like to do with the boys while we still have a chance?" I asked my husband, proceeding to explain what I had been thinking about the park and missed opportunities.
As we wound our way through the streets of town, soaking in the beauty of the green rolling hills and pink- and white-blossomed trees, so full of the promise of spring, we shared our vision of how to best spend the time we have left as parents with children at home. We agreed that our jobs were sucking too much of our life force lately. It was time to recommit ourselves to home and family, to live our life according to our priorities.
Together, we began to plan our present to ensure a future full of memories without a trace of regret.