I penned the following the morning of Independence Day 2006 as I ate breakfast alone while my family was at the beach. Yesterday I was brought back to the same poem on a similar Independence Day five years later as I was home and my family was again at the beach.
There is coming a day when our house will be straight,
No legos on the den floor, no beach towels on the gate.
I won't trip over Star Wars men in the middle of the night.
And he won't ask me when I come home if we can wrestle and fight
The train table and its many parts will have long been stored away.
And we will have a clean floor and tidy house instead on that day.
The yard will no longer overflow with balls, bikes, and swings.
And I won't find in every nook, cranny, and room baby dolls, stickers, and rings.
Crayons will not be found, spills less frequent, and diapers no more,
Except for a few crayon marks penned long ago on a wall, table, or floor.
Yes, Mom and Dad, there is coming a day when your house will not be cluttered.
For the day will arrive when your child moves away, and then your heart will flutter.
And you will recall olden days of toys, games, and snacks.
The dress-up clothes will be gone, no cowboy hats on the racks.
Dad, forget the golf course! Your hobbies can wait for these oh so precious years.
Stay at home, be silly and play, and give a listening ear.
Mom, make your family number one after faith in God.
Care for them and share your love, like a shepherd's firm but gentle rod.
So please be patient in these years to remember what really matters.
Enjoy your children, embrace them now, and thank God for spilled-milk splatters!
- Rhett H. Wilson