Slippery.

It runs through your fingers and there is no grabbing a hold of it. And somehow – I’m not sure how – it only continues to get more so.

And so. I feel as if there is no fighting it. The years are not getting any slower. More methodical. Or luxurious in their passing.

In some ways, I feel as if I can do and be an awful lot in the eyes of my kids. I can have super human strength. Make something yummy out of not much. Conjure up comfort with a song. Make them feel loved and seen and heard, perhaps, when no one else can.

But. Damn it.

I can not slow time.

As much as I wish I could stop it like Super Man can stop speeding locomotives. I can not.

The years are not getting any slower. More methodical. Or luxurious in their passing.

Cash and Olive are bigger and older than they ever have been. Their elementary school years are relentlessly dissolving.  And as much as I try for it not to – it pains me.

And so.

I do what I can to keep the time I am with them full and present and…calm.

I try to savor and hear every word they say, knowing that it is possible, that very soon – they won’t want to tell me anything. We are engrossed in the magic of the classics – I am literally trying to get in as many as we can before they start to shun Heidi and Anne for romance and spy novels. I watch Camp Kikiwaka with them because they love it – and I find it totally amusing (Disney series – Netflix – summer camp), and I rather sit next to them on the couch, eating popcorn, then get laundry done any day. We shoot hoops, take walks, and watch for sunsets, full moons, and moving clouds.

And I try to not get ahead of myself. I try to not be anxious about what’s coming. I try to trust that Harry Potter and Laura Ingalls and Peter Hatcher and the Penderwicks and countless other upstanding, badass, beautiful role-models they have saturated themselves with day after day, have been serving them well.

And I keep them close for now.

Working to wrap my brain around the fact that they are their own strong, creative, thoughtful people who I can not keep contained. And when they fly away – they will do amazing good for all that they touch.

I will, of course, be here with popcorn and songs and open arms…

Always.