Scrolling through my news feed, I see kids going to college: freshly decorated dorm rooms, excitement, sadness. These aren't just any friends' kids; these are the children of people my age (give or take a few years.) How is this possible, when I was just there myself?
My child is a 11 years away from this rite of passage. When I think of how quickly the past 11 years have gone by for me, I realize that the next 11 are going to go by even faster- and it just isn't fair. Time, please slow down! But, it won't.
When we are growing up, those first 18 years seem to take forever. I couldn't wait to get out of the house and start my grown-up life. I moved out at 18, and to this day I'm not sure how it affected my parents- did they go through the same melancholy I'm seeing from friends on FB? Maybe it's because I didn't fly very far or maybe it's because they knew it was bound to happen, but it never occurred to me that they lost any sleep about me being gone. (Parents, if you're reading this maybe you can shed some light on it... lol)
As children, we consider ourselves central to everything in our parents' lives (if we are lucky, that is). But I don't think we understand just how much we are loved. I know I didn't. I didn't understand how much parents really love their kids until I had one of my own. It's a cliche, but it's true. My mom always referred to the years she spent raising us as the happiest years in her life. When I heard this as a young adult, I remember being surprised by it. I also kind of thought it was sad. Were we really that big a deal?
Yes, we were. We are.
When we are young, it doesn't occur to us that our parents had lives before we existed and that they will have lives after we have flown the nest. The 18 years of childhood are so brief, but so defining, for everyone involved. It's hard to fathom what life will be like when Lily grows up. I want her to stay 7 years old forever, but I know that is impossible.
Lily's wanting to get bigger, mature, and change is nothing personal; it's just the way it is. We hurry time along until we get to a place where all we want to do is turn it back again. How I would love to turn the clock back to her infancy, just for one day of blessed out oxytocin-infused baby holding bliss.
