Attention Deficit Disorder

My mother had a late term miscarriage when I was three years old. The nursery was all set up. The little dresser was filled with my hand-me-downs (I'm sure he would have loved that.) We spent a little time every day talking to and about our new baby. I can still remember putting my two little hands on her tummy and feeling him kick. I would bury my ear in her belly hoping to catch any little sibling to sibling secrets he might want to pass along. We were all filled with such anticipation. If only one of about six things had gone right, we'd have had our happiness, but instead I have this haunting need to pay attention. What is happily certain today may tomorrow be tragically lost, so pay attention to today's joy today.
The trouble is there is so much to see and remember. My mother and father are lovely nurturing people full of faith and love and wisdom. I want to soak every bit of it up, especially now as the wrinkles grow deeper and that little daily pill box puts in its first appearance. Then there's my children. I blink and they are reading. I blink again and they are viewing me critically. I'm afraid I'll blink again and they'll be gone. My husband is the guy who's always there just for me. I knew I'd married the right one when I apologized for all the books I buy and he looked at me puzzled and said, "but you need them." He's got these very sexy silver threads scattered through the chocolate that is his hair, and I don't want to miss a memory of time with him. There are so many wonderful people in the world offering so many gifts. When you add to this all the wonderful things there are to know and do and that drive to write your Kilroy, life seems too rich, too full, too demanding and too short. You simply don't have enough attention to pay.
Perhaps that is what is stunting the modern world. Perhaps that is what we are medicating out of our children. Sudden death stalks us early and always now. There's the old atomic threat that duck and cover doesn't cover anymore. Terrorism has added its vicious presence, and murder happens every day on 30-100 channels of cable or dish. Maybe as a race we're trying to remember it all before its all gone. Before the Tsunami swallows up our vacation. Before Allah's crazy nephews set the wedding on fire. Before the hurricane drowns the jazz that was covering over the blues. Maybe I'm not the only one trying to remember today's joys today at the expense of tomorrow's achievements.