It seems like ages ago. But it was only five years.
Five years ago, at about this time of night, we were headed to the hospital. We were full of excitement, trepidation, and worry. We were headed into the unknown. And five years later, parenthood is still full of unknowns. And excitement. And worry.
Five years ago, we were a couple of kids playing house. And five years later, I sometimes still feel like we’re playing house. The only difference is, we’re no longer the only ones in it. And the house is a lot louder now.
Five years ago, I had just finished a long day at work. I was dog tired. And five years later, I recognize the true meaning of tiredness.
Five years ago, we were anxiously waiting for time to speed by. After months of waiting, we were ready for her to arrive, and for our family to finally begin. And five years later, I find myself asking for time to stop. How can she be five already? It doesn’t seem plausible.
Five years ago, we knew everything. We were so sure of ourselves, our marriage, and what we believed. And five years later, we admit that we’re learning. And that we will never truly know an iota of what we should know.
Five years ago, the car was packed. A brand new carseat was installed, checked, and triple-checked. Bags were packed with tiny newborn clothes. And five years later, I find myself packing the car once again. With two dozen Rapunzel-decorated cupcakes frosted in her favorite colors. And treat bags with trinkets fit for a gaggle of preschoolers.
Five years ago, our family numbered two. And five years later, we’ve doubled. And we have realized that we weren’t truly a family back then. Not yet.
Five years ago, we stood on the precipice of parenthood. We thought we knew what love was. And five years later, we truly know what it is.
Happy Birthday, Bobo. I still can’t believe you’re a whole hand already.