Through the Window of Time

Through the window of time... by Mary Pantazis January 15, 2001

The first time I saw them they were together in a carriage built for two. A proud father pushed them along, his wife by his side her arm through his. The babies were bundles of pink. I could hear one of them crying the newborn cry of boredom. She settled down when the father stopped and the mother reached into the carriage and picked her up. The other baby must have known that her sister was being given special attention because she began to cry too! The Dad reached into the stroller and cradled the second baby in his arm. The parents walked on, struggling to push the oversized double stroller while each one carried a pink baby.

Throughout the rest of winter and into early summer the family walked everyday. Sometimes I would see them walking after lunch. Othertimes just before dinner and sometimes an early evening stroll. As the babies grew older they grew more content to sit in their stroller seats. I could hear their baby laughter as they came up the street.

The babies grew and one day I saw them coming up the street on tricycles. The proud parents once again helping them along. One little girl fell off her bike and Dad reached to pick her up. He carried her in one arm and the bike in the other, when the second little girl saw this she fell off of her bike and the mother picked her up and carried her bike. The parents struggled to carry the growing girls, both in tears, and the cumbersome trikes.

Throughout the summer the girls rode by on their bikes. They became more and more coordinated with the pedals and soon the mom and dad were running to keep up.

In the winter they would come by, Mom and Dad each pulling a sled with a child in it on snowy days. The girls laughing and happy to be sledding. One of them would lose a mitten and the family would stop to replace it.

The girls grew from Baby stoller to sleds to trikes to bikes. And suddenly I looked out and they were walking alone. The parents were not with them, instead each little girl held the leash of a little white puppy. The yippy barks and the laughter of the two girls filtered through my window screen. For the whole summer I heard them coming with their little dogs.

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