Saturday we ventured to the beach again, this time to celebrate my niece’s 16th birthday. She was just three years old when I first met her. And now she’s becoming a young woman. The last thirteen years have not “flown by.” They’re filled with countless memories — mostly good, some painful. It feels as though a significant amount of time has passed and I, and the people I love, have all grown and changed in meaningful and deep ways. It doesn’t feel like she was three “just yesterday.”

And yet, I also can’t help but be reminded that my own children will one day be celebrating their sixteenth birthdays. And the distance between now and then seems all too short. Already their lives are taking on a character and a direction that is uniquely theirs. But of course, their time with us is really just preparation for the day when they leave us. In a sense, I suppose, they started leaving us the day they were born.

My daughter was in a particularly fragile mood on Sunday. The slightest things drove her to tears all day long. She just woke up that way. I had a headache most of the day. My wife and I welcomed the break when the kids both fell asleep after running some errands. We’d recharged somewhat by the time they awoke and took the opportunity to install moulding around our living room windows. We’d cut and painted it a week ago but just haven’t had the time or energy to install it. Afterwards, we stepped back and proudly viewed our work, hugged, high-fived. And then got on with the business of dinner and pajamas and story time.

I’m sure we’ll be very sad when the children move on. But I’m also sure that we’ll be very proud. I like to think that on that day, we’ll be able to step back and see the splendid result of years of labor and love. And we’ll hug and high-five. And cry.