A few more Christmases come and go. Wrapping paper swallows the floor and you relish the laughter that fills your home. You snap more photos and resolve to make albums of every year. You ask someone “take one of me with her” because you read an article about needing to be in the photos too.
The first day of high school brings jitters for everyone, and you realize you’re in the homestretch now. You think it’s weird how you can still see her toddler face when you’re looking right at her at 14. Before you can catch your breath, there are first dates and curfews, cars and proms. Is she ready? Have I done enough? Oh but you are so, so proud of who she’s become, and you are filled with gratitude that she is your baby, no matter how old she gets. She is your baby.
His room is filled with boxes as he packs for college. You know he has to fly, but your nest looks so very bare. Suddenly he’s gone, and you stand there in that room as tears escape your eyes. How did it last so long but go by so quickly? You finally print all those photos and catalog your joy by date. Your home is neat and quiet. Until the grandkids come over.
This is parenthood; the unbelievably long and unreasonably short span of loving and letting go. It’s the hardest and most wonderful thing you’ve done and you are forever changed by it all. Your child’s fingerprints will one day no longer be on your mirrors, but they’ll always be on your heart. Yes, time flies. Enjoy it all you can. Slow down. Catch a breath. Let the little things go. Hold him in your lap. Stay and play a little longer. Connect. Make memories. Great ones. Memories worth holding onto when the little hand you’re holding onto now is gone.
