Time is a relative kind of thing. I have been thinking about the passage of time a lot this week. And, although I do get that kind of idea in my head from time to time, this time it comes for a reason.
I am 30. And, I must admit that I hardly even remember being 12 anymore. I vaguely remember being in the middle school that I drive by each day when I drop Jack off for kindergarten, but I know that I must have been 12 because, of course, I’m 30 now. It just seems like it must have been another lifetime ago.
So, why talk about being 12? What has me emotionally charged on that age this week? Well…it was less than a month after I turned 12 that I became an aunt for the first time. (I consider myself very blessed that I have had it happen many, many more times since then as well.) But, that was the first time. And, so, if you’re following with the math, then you have probably figured out what has my mind preoccupied with the passing of time. My oldest nephew will be 18 years old in mere hours. It’s funny how it feels so long ago that that happened, but it still seems like yesterday that he was just a little boy. I remember babysitting him one summer before his next brother was born, and it is so vivid to me — walks to Baskin Robbins, feeding him green beans as he sat in his high chair — and now when I see him, he is this man that is taller than me. It just doesn’t seem possible.
It’s funny — I had a lot of people ask me if I felt older because I was turning 30 last month. I kept saying, “No, I’m actually excited. But, what makes me feel old is that my oldest nephew is going to turn 18.” Life is crazy like that sometimes.
No related posts.
