I was with my little son last night, a toddler in his stroller.
I packed him up and we headed out to McDonald’s for a treat.
I went up to the register, placed and received our order, and then pushed the stroller up to a table. I left him strapped in and turned my seat to face him. I opened up the bag with our food in it and extracted a french fry.
He reached for it and started munching. I only gave him one at a time, because mothers of toddlers know this truth:
A typical toddler will take fistfuls of whatever food he loves and shove it into his mouth over and over without bothering pausing for breath.
Now, this was just a little treat for us in a typical day when I was a young mother, taking my little one out for lunch between errands. The only thing is that I am no longer a young mother. I am a midlife mother.
And my son is no longer a toddler. He is a twenty-six year old man.
The thing is, in the dream last night, I was that young mother again, and he was that toddler.
It felt every bit as real to me as if it did just happen yesterday, and not twenty-three years ago.
I believe that we are all every age we have ever been at any given time.
The experience of this dream is one of the reasons that I believe it.
What a wonderful gift this was to me, this dream.