When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, “What are the days of auld lang syne, Pa?”
“They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,” Pa said. “Go to sleep now.”
But Laura lay awake a little while listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods. She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.
She thought to herself, “This is now.”
She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago. ~Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House in the Big Woods
These last few months I have wrestled tired with a lack of margin. Earlier this week I pondered how to make some of it happen. Crunched up in the bathroom corner while Emily popped up over the tub between scrubbing and rinsing, I read aloud these last words of Little House in the Big Woods. They reminded me.
That 3-letter word led me to put down my lesson planning while waiting for the older girls’ art lesson to finish and walk through the trees . . .
. . . and stop, rather than pass by a playground, though it’s about time to make supper . . .
. . . and we’ve had more sunshine and laughter this week because we are remembering,
and will need reminding again and again,
that it is now.