We've been having lovely, crisp fall weather lately, and it's even starting to get cold enough to make fires in the mornings. I think I may have said this before, but fall is my favorite season. I love the coziness it brings, and the romance of the leaves changing color and starting to... well, fall.
Anyway, I was out on my walk today, enjoying the glorious autumn air, and the boys were in the front yard playing football. My route goes along the fence in the front yard, so as I'd pass by we'd chat and joke back and forth. Then, John asked me to play football with them. I declined, one reason being I didn't have the proper "play/work" clothes on, and the other being that I'm really too old to be romping around with my brothers, especially since two of them are twice my height and could easily crush me.
John was disappointed I wouldn't play, and as I continued on my walk I suddenly had one of those "whoa" moments. You know how the Bible says that to God a thousand years is like a day, and a day is a thousand years? Well, I feel like the past twelve years have been a day. It seems like only yesterday I was having dirt-clod fights with my brothers at our fort. Only yesterday playing tackle-loco with them every single Saturday. Only yesterday moaning from the pain of having my braces put on. Only yesterday that I was the little tomboy, wearing my jeans rolled up to my knees and playing outside barefoot because I wanted to be Huck Finn. (It's true... I really did want to be him.)
And now, here I am, 20 years old, perfectly capable of starting a family and running my own home. I talk a lot on here about how I'm excited to get married and have children, but today, seeing them play football and not being able to join them, I sort of wanted time to stop. I became very sentimental about the times my brothers and I used to have: going on adventures together, planning underground tunnels, putting on plays, reenacting battles, learning hieroglyphics in school, goofing around during lunchtime playing the "staring game" and laughing so hard our sides hurt.
When people realize I have seven brothers, usually their reaction is, "Oh my gosh, you poor thing." No, I'm not poor. Having seven brothers is one of the richest and most rewarding experiences I will ever have; I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. And, when the wonderful day comes for me to leave and cleave, I'm going to miss them. I'm going to miss them so. very. much.