Last Sunday my family and I went with friends to their swim club for a picnic and a pre-4th fireworks display, which was brilliant. When July 4th rolled around and the weather was iffy, we opted out of seeing another fireworks show and instead enjoyed a meal at my sister-in-law’s.
Though we had a great time at dinner (my SIL can cook!), as we headed home and heard the booming of the fireworks we would have seen, I worried I was depriving my children of something. It’s the same FOMO I get when I see Instagram posts of friends treating their kids to amazing vacations; even the same FOMO I feel at this moment, as I know many of my daughter’s friends are preparing for an overnight lacrosse camp to start in the morning. We could have sent her, but we chose not to.
Still, I get caught up in it—the thinking that I should be planning more trips, creating more memories, exposing my children to more, more, more, since they’re only here with me now. In just a handful of years, they will be in college, maybe on the west coast, maybe at U. of Guam?!
Tonight, after my daughters had gone to bed, I let the dog out, and as I stood stewing about the silly stuff, I looked up and around and was treated to a backyard lit with fireflies.
All I had to do was walk out the door and open my eyes.
Seeing the light,