Day by day.
Minute by minute.
We are all aging ever so slowly and ever so fast.
I look at their shoes, they seem to grow by leaps into large child like feet yet their feet sans shoes still seem small. If I hold them just right with a squint of the eye I can see the baby in them. The pudgy top, the folds of the toes. The shoes though give away the kid-ness of them. So big, so much bigger than their feet.
I find myself not mourning their oldness this year. Kid-ness suits them, they are so cool and smart and funny and kind.
Much like myself, I don’t lament getting older. I don’t fear it anymore. I find I am not where I thought I would be or who I thought I would become. However I have found that the older I get the more comfortable I am with who I am. Right now in this skin. I’m starting to like who I am and where we are and maybe that’s why I don't mourn them getting older because in general I am starting to get a grasp on the slow and steady march of time.
Well into I look at the baby and than that all melts into a fit of anguish. I want her to be baby longer, to hold her longer, to squeeze and cherish every moment to make up for those that I missed.
So maybe I haven’t accepted the movement of time but rather came to peace with it's inevitable march.