Eighteen Summers with Our Children: A Reflection on Time’s Fleeting Nature

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Updated: Dec. 18, 2015
Originally Published: Aug. 14, 2015

When I first became a mother, with my infant daughter barely a few months old, I encountered another mother with older children who shared an unsettling thought: “You only have eighteen summers with your kids. After that, they’re off—just like that!” She snapped her fingers dramatically, underscoring her point. I nodded along, attempting to appear understanding, while in my mind, I was preoccupied with the thrill of back-to-school sales at the store, which provided a delightful new section to explore.

Fast forward twelve years, and I now find myself as a mother of four, realizing that those eighteen summers are more of a blur than I ever anticipated. Summer jobs, mission trips, internships, and sleepaway camps quickly fill up the once leisurely months. The children I used to find challenging to entertain now lead busier lives than I do. Perhaps I’m feeling particularly nostalgic this year because my eldest is about to turn 13.

Thirteen—A Milestone

Thirteen—she’s officially a teenager! This milestone stirs my reluctance to bid farewell to summer. Technically, I have five more summers with her, right? But five feels woefully insufficient. I understand that these summers won’t be packed with pool parties, library visits, or lazy beach days as they once were. I’ve noticed a shift in her this year; her independence has blossomed, she can sleep for twelve hours straight, and she prefers her friends’ company over family outings. While we’ve encouraged her growth and independence, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

I wish she still found joy in trips to the waterpark or the science museum. I want her to build forts with her siblings all day while we lounge in pajamas. I want her to appreciate crafts and find value in making popsicle-stick dollhouses. Yet, the reality of parenting is that it’s not solely about my desires.

The Gloom of Transition

As the new school year approaches, I can’t shake the gloominess that accompanies this transition. The end of summer signals the close of a chapter—one I’ve never been skilled at concluding.

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In summary, the time we have with our children is precious and fleeting, marked by bittersweet transitions as they grow up. Each summer presents an opportunity to bond and create lasting memories, even as we face the inevitability of change.

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