So Much Happens.

Tonight the daughter of dear friends became a bat mitzvah.
She grew so fast I felt so old I'm not sure how it all happened.
To think that just a few years ago she was perched on a grown up's knee, open eyes, amiable, soft, trusting, she was new to our world - Alan's and mine - and we admired her so.
And I remember her telling her dad early on that Alan seemed like an uncle to her.
He relished in hearing that.
Proud of his impression.
Honored.

He was just here.
It seems.
Sometimes, that is.

When I caught a fleeting glimpse of him tonight, in a montage, it felt like yesterday we were wandering through that cornfield maze - Alan,Sam, Michael, Ava, and I.
We looked healthy.
Happy.
Shadowed by near twilight sun.

But then I reflect on the fact that it was pre-Lily, pre-Jake, pre-Stella. We were all newly in love with the dream of creating more family.

And so it happened.

But not the way any of us had imagined - we are one person short of the happiest of dreams.
Actually, many people short;
There were others who also deserved to be there tonight.
To see this no-longer-child poised and present, on her own.

No knee needed.

The age of awkward beautiful, heavy on the beautiful,
just teetering on the cusp of adult life.
So close, near ready, but hopefully not too too soon.
Many must have been smiling down on her.
Oh so proud.

It is a wonder to watch the way things grow.

I am awestruck when I look at Lily these days,and I have fallen prey to every parental cliche.
They grow up so quickly.
Enjoy them at this age.
Savor these moments.
It all goes by so fast.

And so it does.

We visited a farm today.
Lily and a friend (donning a cape no less, another cohort with flair).
Pulled garlic stems, picked snow peas, collected eggs.
Learned that there are more things living in a fistful of soil than people on this planet.

Ahh life.

Origins before our eyes -
Ones that even a three year old can begin to contemplate.
How
did
she
get
here?

Slow down, you move too fast.

I am amazed by how it,
this,
happens.

Oh to be a parent.
The greatest, hardest job.
And joy.

Ever.