As she walked by, I smiled and said, wistfully, "I miss the stroller days. They go by too fast." She nodded and smiled back, then continued on her way.
And I do miss "the stroller days."
Sometimes when I'm in out basement, I stop for a minute when my eyes fall on the Baby Jogger City Elite. I have so many happy memories of morning, afternoon and evening strolls through the neighborhood with J.P. or Joe riding shotgun in that stroller. Sometimes, they napped. Other times, they chattered happily. As we walked, I often listened to podcasts or music, occasionally flipping the velcro and sneaking a peak down into the stroller. If Joe or J.P. was awake, I was greeted with a grinning face staring up at me.
I vividly recall walking from our house on Elliott Ave. to Belmont U. one weekend afternoon with J.P. He was holding in his small hands a musical "Thomas the Train" caboose - the name escapes me, although I'm sure it had one. He punched the button not the caboose over and over again, playing the Thomas the Train's theme song. On the rare occasion I hear that song today, I step into a time machine and am transported back to that afternoon walk with J.P.
So many Saturday and Sunday afternoons, first with J.P. and later with Joe, we would walk until one or the other fell asleep, then I would stop at Bongo Java, Edley's, the 12South Tap Room, Mafiozza's, Frothy Monkey or PM for a cup of coffee or a beer (or two). I read the New Yorker, worked a crossword puzzle, surfed the internet or, often, blogged while J.P. or Joe slept. I looked forward to those stolen quiet times all during the work week. Then, there were no practices or games to get to and, for the most part, no birthday parties or play dates. Just me and J.P. or Joe on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon in the neighborhood.
The best moment - always - was when J.P. or Joe began to stir, then woke up from his nap. One of the other would stretch, rub his eyes, look over at me from the stroller and smile. That moment was pure magic for me. Pure magic. And, sadly, gone in the blink of an eye.
Now, on Saturdays, we have two soccer games in the morning and two baseball games in the afternoon. On Sunday afternoons, I hold practice for J.P.'s team (Dodgers) at 1:30 p.m. and Joe's (Junior Dodgers) at 3:00 p.m. I love those times, obviously, and they're fleeting too, I know. Still, I miss the stroller days.
Part of what I miss, I think, is the simplicity and innocence of that time of my life. My mom was healthy, of course, and that's a big part of it. Things - life, really - is just more complicated for me now, personally and professionally.
I remember meeting Anne Marie Elliott and her daughter, Ayden, while I was on a walk with J.P. Ayden was J.P.'s age and Anne Marie and I laughed at our plight - older first time parents out for a walk with our child, in the 'hood, no less. In those days, of course, there were very few parents out in the neighborhood walking with their children in strollers. Now, it's totally different. Especially on Saturdays and Sundays, but all week, really, "the Stroller Army" is out in force. Everywhere.
The first time was, maybe, one of the best times. J.P. was tiny and I was walking with him down 10th Avenue when our old neighborhood friend, Ronnie Henderson, drove by in his beat up pick-up truck. He hollered at me, stopped and got out of his truck to get a good luck at J.P., asleep in the City Elite. Ronnie, laughing, pointed out how proud I looked as J.P. and I were strolling along. And, damn, I was proud. A high point, maybe the high point, in my life.
That was the beginning of the stroller days, which are long gone now. And I miss them.
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