Yesterday, my (fabulously gifted writer) friend Allison Slater Tate wrote a post, This is Childhood: FIVE. Her descriptions and musings of five-year-olds touched my heart, moved me to tears, and left me rolling her sentiments around in my head for the rest of the day and night.
One small excerpt:
"Five is a whole hand. It is no longer a baby, not even a toddler or a preschooler. Five is a big deal. After the slow, rickety, listen-to-every-click-of-the-wheels climb to the top of the rollercoaster that is the first four years of parenting, five lets you pause for just a moment at the apex. In the brief stillness, you suck your breath in as you look back on the journey that brought you there, anticipating the free fall and the loop-de-loops beneath you that will carry you toward adolescence and teenagerland and the great beyond. Five is both an end and a beginning."
Perhaps it's because I am eyes-deep in 5 myself: I kiss 5 on the head as she bounds for the bus stop every morning. I watch 5 twirl and pounce in tutus across the family room floor. I am squeezing 5 in my arms every night at bedtime.
Perhaps it's because in only a handful of weeks my fabulous and feisty 5 will have another birthday, a fact that causes my heart to skip, as once again, I'm reminded of how fast these precious years of childhood slip by.
Truly, it feels like just yesterday this girl was bubbling over with joy, bursting at her seams to share the news, "I'm five now!".
To everyone who has a five year old, had a five year old, or was a five year old: read Allison's post. You'll be glad you did.