After great thought and careful consideration,
I can call forth a three year old memory of my own.
I might get it wrong... or be somewhat out of time.
Three years is a moment in my life, easily confused with the others.
Having children changes the fabric of time.
It compresses into such manageable parts,
and lays itself bare to your wonder.
In a heartbeat, I am transported
to any moment in the last eight years.
I can see each event in lives of my boys,
as clearly as the how-tall-am-I? lines on the kitchen wall.
Three years ago there was a toddler and a little boy.
A world of changes in each year... let alone all three.
It's easy to see the days of their lives... and line them up.
Three years is half of a lifetime, each distinct and memorable.