It was 24 October — a miserable, cold, sleety, rainy Friday morning in 1980. I reported to the hospital for my C-section at 6 a.m., and by 11:00, little Seamus greeted the world. At that point, the weather — and everything else in my universe — was fine.
He was three years old when we bought him his first drumset. At 11, he was sitting in with our band. He grew up into a fine young man with sons of his own, and the cycle starts again.
I wonder this day: is there a crucial lesson hidden in the swift passage of time? Should we be learning to savor every moment even more, celebrate each conversation even longer? I think so.
When my sons were young, so was I. Having had children at age 21 and 24, I think I may have been too young to realize how fast things would take off, and that soon and very soon I would be a grandmother and I’d look at my sons and wonder how they got to be all growed up with families of their own. Time truly does fly by.
So, advice to my students and younger readers: Old, tired axioms like “Don’t take anything for granted” and “You’ll be an adult before you know it” are really true. Advice to self: slow down and enjoy it all.