Three Marches

 

Just like that, a year has gone by. Today as I danced with Holden, I tried to cement his squeals of delight in my mind so I will remember them when he is twelve and I am 43. I concentrated hard while also trying not to cry. I can’t say that 2026 sounds all that far off to me.

I thought about the years ahead of us. Brandon starts kindergarten in 2017. That means he is already halfway through his non-school years. He will graduate high school in 2030 – 29 years after I did. Holden in 2032 – 31 years after me. I remember the hospital band I wore when each of my sons were born. I remember looking at the one I wore in 2012 and thinking, “wow, I’m 29.” And then with Holden, when I was in my thirties, that was really a dose of reality.

I remember so much about my childhood and adolescence and early adulthood and have always thought of myself as one of the young generation. But I’m not. There are generations after me and kids I used to babysit are getting married and having kids and this year my daughter is turning ten. Both as a kid and as an adult, time slips by us: a day here compounded with the day after and the day after. And pretty soon you’re looking at old photos thinking, shit, that was that long ago? It goes quickly, this life we’re given. So damn quickly.