Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Thinking, that's all: So We Dance and Sing

My baby sister is getting married in two days, and it's all starting to become very real.

day 244

These past few months we've all trying to make sorts of what that means for her and for our family and for us, I think, too.

Because after having her live here for the better part of a year, she kind of has become part of everyday life in an ever-decreasing way, and, of course, that's as it should be when a woman grows up and out and into new skin, combining her life with the man she loves.

It's as it should be, I remind myself when she's not here for dinner or whatever else.

And maybe because I'm not great with big changes, and maybe because I cling to memories with the grip of a kid grasping a beloved doll, I've been focusing more on plans and preparations for her bachlorette party and the details -- the outfits and the gifts and the speech {Oh MY WORD THE SPEECH!} and the mustaches on a stick than the actual feelings that swirl and swell in my heart when I think of my little sister getting married.

And it's very unlike all three of the weddings I officiated for her in the backyard when she was four and dolled up in the fancy, ruffled dress she wore to our dad's wedding reception saying I do to the little red-headed neighbor boy we all adored.

Like, really getting married ... to a grown man and in that union she gains a business and a home of her own and a car and babies {someday, no rush}.

And these thoughts here -- the newness of what's to be coupled with the nostalgia of a childhood that's been and a year of togetherness as adults living life in the same house, well, it's enough to leave me a little breathless, forgetting to actually soak in this moment, this here, this now.

Because just as busyness steals away the days, so, too, does living in yesterday and tomorrow.

There's a snap back to reality when G, who has been focusing his energy on the practical, too, by intently practicing his sweet dance moves every chance he gets, begs me to turn on some "boy music" {code for male singing voices} that's good for dancing.

Like Ice Ice Baby {introduced to him by a certain sister of mine}.

Thankfully, he willing rocks out when Jimmy Eat World rocks the house and sways melodically along to Death Cab for Cutie and the like .

And it's good -- this rocking, this swaying of the house by song and lyric and melody because it means that the TV is off. {Did I mention that E now sneaks off while G and I are playing or cleaning or cooking and turns on not just the TV but also Netflix? Yeah -- kid is smart.}

But, also, there's goodness because it means that we're immersed in the present enjoying the music, the movements, the beauty of right here and right now, which is where I really I want to be.

In the moment

I want stand strong in all of this and soak it up -- her wedding and these long days but short years of the boys' smallness -- while it's happening instead of reliving it in fractured pieces of memories.

So we dance and sing right here, right now not just as practice for the wedding, but as practice in really living within the actual moments of both the ordinary and extraordinary days.

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