It wasn’t so long ago that I would snicker and tease my friends who were young parents.
“Oh, my baby is just growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday that he (or she) was born,” they would say. I’d ask: “And how old is your baby now?” The answer: “Oh, my baby is turning a year old.”
My response often would be something like this: “Talk to me in 20 or 30 years and then we can discuss how ‘time flies.'”
That was then. I noted nearly four years ago about how our precious granddaughter was getting ready to celebrate her first birthday.
Emma Nicole is about to turn — and I am gulping as I type these couple of words — 5 years of age.
These days I no longer snicker at my young-parent friends. I feel their angst, their anxiety, at times their frustration.
Time is scampering away from us. I remember the day Emma came into our lives quite vividly, just as I remember when our sons arrived, too; that was more than four decades ago.
You’ve read on this blog how much we have enjoyed grandparenthood, even though Emma lives some distance from us — for the time being. We’re in the process of shortening that distance dramatically. We hope that day arrives much sooner rather than later.
As we move along with the rest of our life together, my wife and I are preparing for the next big challenge. It will be likely our final relocation. Then we’ll be able to enjoy the full fruits of grandparenthood.
Oh, brother. The time does have this habit of getting away from us.