Tuesday, April 1, 2008

These Happy Golden Years

We've been reading the Little House books every morning this year, and as we were finishing These Happy Golden Years FDPG asked me where the title came from. I mumbled something about reflecting on one's life, "rose coloured lenses" and "salad days" (and maybe even something from a David Bowie song), but one page turn later and it was all laid out for us:

"Golden years are passing by,
Happy, happy golden years,
Passing on the wings of time,
These happy golden years.
Call them back as they go by,
Sweet their memories are,
Oh, improve them as they fly,
These happy golden years.

Laura's heart ached as the music floated away and was gone in the spring night under the stars."

And as I read it, my heart ached as well. People always say that these are the best years of your life, these days when the kids are still able to be nestled in laps and cuddled, and as I read the words I was struck by a terrible terrible pang, that pang when you suddenly see all the days of their childhood rushing past you in a whirling, unstoppable blur. I teared up a little, and gazed fondly (if blearily) at my three happy golden children, only to find them looking at me as if I'd suddenly lost my mind. Nothing like a kid to drag you out of a wallow in Nostalgia Land.

These are your happy golden years, my sweet little chickadees, I thought, but I didn't say it. They'll find out soon enough.

The happy golden Greenridge kids, seven years ago...



I don't have any kids to feel like this, but I do feel like this about my childhood and teenage years, which were very much taken for granted, of which every now and again I would very much like to have back. x

Kate said...

This is a great picture of the golden children! I too have occasional bouts of nostalgia - J still holds my hand while crossing streets and in parking lots, but Z just turned 13! How did that happen?

Nicola said...

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Becky said...

Love the Golden Greenridge kids :)

The only thing that keeps me from falling into a hopeless nostalgic funk is the fact that things seem to get better and more fun with and for the kids each year. They have turned the spare bedroom into their camping headquarters, and every pot, sleeping bag, and can of beans I can spare has been packed away while they wait for the last of the snow to melt. I think they're definitely having more fun now that they can have it on their own (and at least they still hug and kiss me when they leave and then return!).