When I was younger, I always had a habit of checking in on myself. I would think, “Does it feel like you’ve lived ten years? Yes. Okay, then you’ve got a good grasp on time.” And then I would say, “Does it feel like you’ve been alive for 16 years? Yes. Okay, then you’re not letting life pass you by too quickly.”

“Does it feel like you’ve lived 20 years? Good.”

But then one day that changed. “Does it feel like you’ve lived 28 years? No?”

“30? No.”

“34? No.”

Time started to slip past me. I lost my grip on it.

It’s not surprising. You hear this all the time as men and women get older. “Where has the time gone?” We passed through it, and yet, it slipped by.

These are years – and days – I want to hold onto, but I can feel them slipping past. As time always does.

These years where my daughter says “crowdy” for crazy and rowdy, “frote” for frightened, and “cuttle” when she’s begging for cuddles. When my son says “not yet” or “tomorrow” when he doesn’t want to do something in the sweetest little voice I wish I could bottle up. For interrupted sleep with a tiny, knobby knee in my back and an arm around my neck. For constant whining to be held.

A day will come where there is no knee in my back. No whining to be held. No one begging for snuggles. And time, as much as I try to hold onto it, it’s slipping by. And while I know the future holds a joy of its own, the joy of today is being carried away into the past.

So, tonight. I’ll snuggle for a few more minutes. I’ll count the seconds… 1…. 2…. 3…. try for just a minute to hold time steady for a moment. Hold on to today’s joy and treasure it deep in my heart. Before time, as it always does, carries it away.