Hell, time as a whole is passing by like a runaway freight train, and this is one week where I'm brought up against just how time has flown:
My daughter Súl (my oldest kid) turned 30 two days ago. THIRTY!!
I remember when she was tiny. I remember getting her to belly-laugh by throwing her into the middle of the waterbed so it could slosh around her. I remember taking her to her flute lessons. I remember playing taiko (Japanese drums) with her. I remember teaching her to drive, and nearly splitting a seam when she worried at me, "But Mom, there are cars coming at us!!" I remember the first time I sat down and she gave me a pedicure that almost put me to sleep.
I have enjoyed each and every stage of her life, and I'm proud to be able to claim that not only is she a fantastic daughter, but she's my best friend. She's independent, self-assured, capable, compitent, opinionated, driven and yet introspective. I am so proud of her I could bust, and very grateful that she lives close enough that we see each other often.
But where did that time go?
I also remember walking the floor with her, trying to get her back to sleep when she was a baby so that her crying wouldn't disturb her dad's sleep, trying to wrap my mind around the idea that one day she would be graduating high school. That day that seemed so distant and hard to imagine was eleven years ago!!
Ah well. At least it was time well-spent...