Ferris Bueller Made Some Sense

Okay, I'll admit that I'm a bit of an 80's pop culture junkie, so it's not surprising that I love, love, love "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." Beautiful people, big egos, hijinks, Chicago...sue me.

But I'm thinking a bit more seriously today. There was one bit of wisdom in that movie that has run through my mind a lot in the 1 1/2 years since Shabbi passed away...and to a large extent now that Bryony has been born and Michael Jackson has died. In both the beginning and end of the movie, Ferris looks into the camera and says, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

Once Shabbi was gone, I realized that all the time I'd had with her had flown by. I'd taken her health and youth for granted, thinking that she would somehow live forever, that we'd always have time together. Death, I suppose, makes you much more aware of life and time. Likewise, now that Bryony has arrived, I'm acutely aware of how quickly she's growing. She's only five weeks old and already she's changing--sleeping through the night, recognizing my face, smiling, rolling over...how can time have passed so quickly and yet I feel as though she was just born?

I watched Michael Jackson's memorial service on television yesterday, and felt myself tearing up as the montage of pictures glossed over the screen. I finally realized that I wasn't necessarily crying for him; after all, I never personally knew him to be truly sad that he died. No, I was crying for me, or rather, for the loss of my youth. Michael Jackson symbolizes my youth, my childhood. He was the guy I once upon a time thought I was going to marry. He was the star that so many young boys my age tried to imitate. He was the performer my entire family hovered around the tv set to watch as his latest video hit the airwaves. He was not just Michael Jackson; he was the personification of my (and many others') formative years. He made us believe that our dreams were attainable. And Michael, like my youth, was supposed to last forever. It feels unreal that he is gone, just as it feels unreal that I am 31-almost-32, a wife, and now, a mother. It feels more than coincidental that Bryony was born shortly before my childhood icon passed away. Now I know that my tears, my sadness, isn't just for Michael; it's for the recognition that I've come to the end of an era--my youth.

With this realization, I've stopped wishing away time, stopped "living for the weekend." There's a whole five days of life that has to pass by before the weekend comes...why will it away? Every five days that I wish away in order to get to a weekend are five days' worth of wrinkles on my face, five days' more beats of my heart, five days closer Kika gets to the end, five days older that Bryony becomes. So, I try hard not to enjoy every momment, even the dull ones, even the ones that seemingly have no importance. None of us know how much time we've actually got, so we might as well enjoy the here and now while we have it.

So...good-bye Michael. Good-bye childhood and youth. Hello, Bryony, my sweet darling. Hello, next stage of my life.