Time Changes with Age
Time changes with age. It goes faster, it is more precious, it is more reflective, it is more full. It is less wasted, it is less taken for granted, it is never boring, it is never enough. Time is anticipated with more hope, more dependence, more consequence.
Time used to be filled with space, with time to think about how slow time was taking, but now it doesn’t. Time used to elongate, with slowly ticking clocks, painful passing of weeks and months, in anticipation of what’s next. Time used to be anchored in short passing seasons.
Why? Passion? Responsibility? Love? Questing? Longing? Creating?
My baby is six months old. How did that happen? Jammies, which were once donned by Anna, now fit snuggly on Ally. Memories of other children, now grown are precious. Which makes the little one that I hold in my arms so much more so. I love my children, I love their potential, I love their passion for life, and their love, their trust, their genuine sparkle at attention and affection.
Today I am grateful for the time to hold Ally in my arms, to cradle Brennan after a sad moment, to encourage my Anna. These simple moments are fleeting, but so dear.
