I’ve been looking at pictures of some of my friends’ kids playing on beaches, building sand castles, wearing those little floaty things that you put on your arms before you jumped in the pool. It’s weird because I remember those days, and they don’t seem that long ago. I know, I’m being cliche here… but really, once you hear a cliche so many thousands of times, there has to be some element of truth to it.

Time does fly by, doesn’t it?

I wonder if that’s why I hear so many parents of grown-up type people yearn for grandchildren. Because it’s sort of like a time-reversal. You get to play with really small humans who are still flesh and blood, but at the end of the day you can still return them to their maker (not Maker, but maker… small ‘m’). You get to play the role of ‘parent’ all over again, and the whole thing just hints of memory.

My youngest-older sister’s about to have a baby, which, for me, is odd. I mean, being an uncle for the first time was a strange enough new reality. But for the sister to whom I am closest in age, the sister with whom I, in many ways, grew up to be bearing a child just seems… I don’t know… weird.

I guess a lot of it is that it didn’t seem that long ago when I was 3-4 years old, and she, at age 9, would play with me on the beach, building sand castles, swimming with me while I wore those little floaty things that I would put on my arms before I jumped in the pool. There’s this picture of the two of us, fresh out of the ocean, where I’m still adorning a layer of baby fat and she’s tiny, herself.

We were just kids. And life was so simple then. No less grand than the ‘now’, mind you. Just simpler.

God… wasn’t that just yesterday?


~ by presbytide on July 30, 2010.

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