It's the last hour of the last day of my favorite month. I woke up promising myself that no part of this day would be wasted. Looking back, I believe I kept that promise to myself. To be honest, it wasn't difficult, because our sweet grandgirls had spent the night. And we had plans. We were not going to waste a moment of this precious together time.
First, the girls were treated to Grandpa's famous "pan a cakes". Whenever they spend the night, that's the breakfast order they make at bedtime. That was nothing unusual. What happened the rest of the day, that was a diversion from ordinary days. What made it so special? One sentence that escaped my heart started it all. "I will never have this day again".
Seeing the sunshine and sensing the girls' excitement, I hurried around the kitchen, choosing only the messiest dishes to soak in the sink. The rest just sat on the counter. Dishes I can do any day. There were little girl jammies on the floor of their room, craft projects from the night before still stacked on the dining room table, and not a single bed had been made. But I didn't care. It was the last day of my favorite month, and I wasn't getting it back again. Some things just weren't important this morning.
Slamming the screen door behind us, we ran pell-mell into the day. We had brand new squirt guns to try out, and those sweet little girls screamed with glee as they took shots at each other. And at themselves. And at Grammie. But I didn't care. Grandpa put out the water slide before he left, and there was more little girl squealing. They got drenched, and shook off raindrops on Grammie. But I didn't care. It was the last day of my favorite month, and I would never get it back.
We took a break to watch the hummingbirds hover at their feeder. We've been trying to spot their nest, so we checked out one more pine tree, but no tiny humming bird home yet. We watered the geraniums and checked on the flowers the girls had planted. And when it was lunchtime, each girl got to choose her own favorite from the "menu". Ryleigh wanted a fried egg in toast. Mackenzie wanted egg salad. I'll tell you right now if one of them had asked for lobster bisque or quiche Lorraine, I'd have gladly prepared them. Because this was the last day of my favorite month, and I wasn't getting it back, not ever.
It was a wonderful way to spend this last precious day of my favorite month. But, as they say, all good things must end. When it was finally time for their mommy to take the girls home, I caught her looking at the mess in my kitchen. The dishes piled up. The floor. Dried grass was mixed with pure mud on the floor from the kitchen door to the back of the house. I didn't give her a chance to apologize. I told her that I only have so many grandmother days allotted for my lifetime. Floors littered with last night pajamas and covered with mud and dry grass were a gift. They are a reminder of a promise I made to myself. A day well spent. Some sweet memories woven into the fabric of my heart. On the last day of my favorite month. No, I'll never get it back, but I have no regrets.
Psalm 90, verse 12: "Teach us to make the most of our time, so that we may grow in wisdom."
From where I sit, it was a wonderful day, a beautiful month. What about you? Are you making the most of your time?