I read something the other day, on social media somewhere no doubt. It pointed out that we only have 18 summers with our children. 18. Put like that, 18 summers sounds like nothing at all, does it? And we all know how quickly these summer breaks can fly by.
Then I thought about it some more, and thought about the fact that Boo is 9 years old. So we are already halfway through those summers. Halfway. In no time at all.
The summers, the years, have whizzed on by. And I have been right here for every single one of them, and yet I still feel like time has been whisked away from me.
I do realise that Boo will always be my daughter so if I am lucky I will have more like 50 or 60 summers with her. But I see the point, the summers of childhood, the summers of lazy mornings, picnics, days out, trips to the park, those are the 18. And I think I know that whilst they say 18, I also recall my own childhood and I’m pretty sure that by the time I was around 14 or 15 I was off out with my friends over the summer. So really, do I just have 4 or 5 more?
To think about it likes this makes me want to turn back time and redo the last 9. I can see them, flashes of them, the ordinary moments mixed in with the outings and adventures. But I know I can’t do this, I know that time waits for no-one.
I do love seeing the kids grow, the way that they change and develop and are a pleasure to spend time with. It’s easier now, now that we are through the baby, toddler and preschool years. They are happy occupying each other, they are fun to talk to, to play with. Summer breaks are a breeze, I never want them to end.
I look forward to the coming years and the coming summers with them, though I can never really imagine them any older than they are. I am endlessly grateful that I have had all of this time with them and have more to come.
It’s just….halfway? Already? Somebody please slow it all down…