Time

There is an old southern phrase and I can't even recall when I first heard it: You can't fence time. It means that life marches on; things change; and to struggle against it is futile. You can't fence time.

As this summer seems to be flying by, I watch my boy and it seems that he is just growing up before my eyes. In a glancing look, I can still see a glimpse of his lovely baby face. But those moments are less frequent. He still loves to play outside and would rather do that than play video games. He doesn't know how to send a text message on a phone (and he doesn't care to learn). Every once in a while, he climbs in my lap to give me a bone-crushing hug. Better yet, he casually calls "I love you, Mama," as he heads upstairs to play in his playroom. He cheerfully helps with household chores. He still believes in Santa Claus and fervently avoids any intrusion of reality on that fantasy.

He's nine and though my nine year old is still a boy, he's not really a little boy anymore. I know that being nine can't last forever. I see other moms with their bigger boys and I am sure there is much about the coming years that I will enjoy. We'll still laugh together. We'll still be a team marching through life. But on these lovely summer days when the future stretches before me, and change is in the air, on these days, I'd like to hold on to these moments a little longer.

I'd like to fence time.