I write and ache a lot about time's passing, about how Silas is now tall and lanky, all knees and elbows and nearly impossible to hold; about how Eden prances through the door to her classroom without a pause, and how I get teary most of all when I look at their old clothes. Letting people grow and keep growing hurts.
And then, of course, there are those older women who pop into your line of vision in elevators and grocery store lines who tell you how all of this passes so quickly and you should enjoy every moment -- I've written about those women before -- and the quiet pressure to inhabit every minute of the day and savor them.
Annemarie just sent me this link -- I have no idea who Momastry is and have never read another word by her, but I love this reflection she wrote about time so much that I'm posting it here. She nailed all of it.