What I Notice Now That I Used to Hurry Past
A young boy plays with older toys on his bedroom floor beside a new bed in a room with green block inspired decor.
My grandson gets excited about things most adults barely notice.
Going outside is an event.
It doesn’t matter if there’s a plan. He’s happy just opening the door and seeing what’s out there.
He gets excited when someone he loves walks into the room. He’s happy when Barbie, our dog, joins whatever he’s doing. A familiar person arriving can completely change his day.
None of it needs to be impressive.
He doesn’t need reservations, tickets, or an itinerary. He doesn’t need to know whether what we’re doing is productive.
He’s simply happy to be there.
I think I used to hurry past moments like that.
I was always looking toward whatever needed to happen next. There was work, laundry, dinner, appointments, bills, and a dozen other things waiting for me.
I noticed the big moments.
I’m not sure I always noticed the ordinary ones.
His Room Is Changing
We’ve recently been working on my grandson’s bedroom.
He’s leaving his toddler bed behind, and his room is getting a Minecraft makeover. He’s excited about it because Minecraft is one of the things he loves right now.
Watching his room change has reminded me how quickly childhood moves.
One interest replaces another. Clothes become too small. The toys they once carried everywhere are suddenly forgotten in a corner.
Not long ago, my grandson decided some of his toys were baby toys.
He’d moved on.
Then he found them again.
He started playing with them as if he’d never declared himself too old for them. There was no announcement or explanation. He didn’t need to defend the decision.
The toys were fun again, so he played with them.
I enjoyed watching him return to them.
There was something sweet about seeing him realize that getting older didn’t mean he had to stop enjoying everything that belonged to a younger version of himself.
It also made me think about the things I’ve supposedly outgrown.
How many interests, pleasures, or parts of ourselves do we put away because we decide we’re too old for them?
How often do we stop doing something we enjoy because it no longer seems appropriate for the person we think we’re supposed to be?
Maybe we don’t outgrow everything we leave behind.
Sometimes life gets busy and an old pleasure gets buried underneath responsibilities. Sometimes we convince ourselves that we should’ve moved beyond it. Sometimes we simply stop noticing how much we enjoyed it.
Then something places it in front of us again, and we realize it still belongs to us.
My grandson didn’t need to explain his renewed interest in those toys.
He picked them up and played with them.
There may be some wisdom in that.
When My Children Were Young
Watching my grandson grow makes me think about the years when my own children were little.
I wish I’d paused more to enjoy that time.
I was raising children, working, taking care of a household, dealing with financial pressures, and doing everything that keeps a family moving.
There was always another task waiting and another place we needed to be.
I was present, but I was also busy.
I didn’t fully understand how temporary everything was.
You know your children will grow up. Everyone tells you they will. You see clothes become too small and interests change. You celebrate birthdays and watch one school year follow another.
Still, it’s hard to understand the speed of it while you’re living inside it.
The routines that seem endless eventually end.
One day they no longer need help with something they once couldn’t do without you. The toys disappear. Their voices change. Their lives expand beyond the walls of your home.
You don’t always recognize the last time something happens while it’s happening.
You don’t know it’s the last time they’ll ask you to tie their shoes or sit beside them until they fall asleep.
It’s simply Tuesday.
You’re tired, something needs to be cleaned, and you assume there will be another night just like it.
Then one day you realize there wasn’t.
I can’t return to those years and pay closer attention. I can’t make myself less tired or less worried. I can’t remove the responsibilities that filled those days.
What I can do is notice more now.
My grandson gives me another view of childhood, one that isn’t quite as crowded by the responsibility of being the parent.
I can watch his excitement without also carrying every part of his world on my shoulders.
Maybe that’s one of the gifts of being a grandparent.
You understand how quickly the moment will pass because you’ve already watched it happen once.
What Peace Looks Like Now
The things I value have changed too.
Peace, for me, isn’t an elaborate getaway or a life without responsibility.
Peace is a life without unnecessary drama.
It’s going to work and coming home.
It’s crawling into bed beside Jason at the end of the day.
It’s an early morning cup of coffee before anyone else is awake and before the day begins asking things from me.
It’s reading a book in the quiet or sitting in the backyard.
There’s usually music somewhere in my life because there’s always been music. Some things stay with us even while everything else changes.
These moments are ordinary.
They would’ve been easy to overlook when I was younger because I was often waiting for something bigger.
I thought the important parts of life would announce themselves.
Now I understand that an ordinary morning with good coffee and nowhere else I need to be for a little while isn’t the space between the important parts of life.
It is one of the important parts.
Making Room for What Still Belongs
My grandson is leaving his toddler bed behind. His room is changing to reflect the person he’s becoming and the things he loves now.
But some of the older toys may not be ready to leave just yet.
There can be room for Minecraft and the toys he once thought were for babies.
Growing doesn’t require him to reject every earlier version of himself.
I think the same may be true for me.
Midlife is often presented as a time to clear things out, let things go, and reinvent yourself.
Sometimes that’s exactly what we need.
But maybe some things don’t need to be discarded simply because they belonged to who we were before.
Maybe we can return to an old interest.
Maybe we can become excited about something without wondering whether we’re too old for it.
Maybe we can sit in the backyard with a book, play the music louder, enjoy our coffee, or pick up something we once loved without needing to explain why it still matters.
I can’t go back and experience my children’s childhood differently.
I can pay attention to the childhood unfolding in front of me now.
I can notice the excitement over going outside, the happiness when someone familiar arrives, and the delight of discovering that an old toy is still fun.
I can also let those moments remind me to look again at my own life.
Maybe I haven’t outgrown as much as I thought.
Maybe some of it has simply been waiting for me to notice it again.
With Love from Mabank,
Brandy
Related Reading
I Still Get Excited About Things
