Holding Tight: Savoring the Last Loops Before They Aren't Little Any More

This summer has been crazy!

You know the feeling of a roller coaster after the first drop? The excitement that there are more loops? The thrill of putting your arms up and screaming as loud as you can? The ecstasy from the corkscrew that kept you upside down for what felt like an eternity?

That’s me this summer.

Yes, I did go on a roller coaster and felt all that. But I’m talking about not having time to breathe. Not knowing how much longer I can hold on—and making sure I’m enjoying 100% of every moment.

Life is changing.

So slowly I don’t notice the changes when I wake up to a new day.

So drastically I’m aware that the last minute is gone.

So intensely that I’m surrendering myself to every feeling that comes up.

Holding tight so that it makes an imprint in me to last a lifetime.

I can see how the kids are adulting. How the future might look with my husband and me as empty nesters. The youngest—independent with his car—drives long distances to ID camps, actively creating his future. My oldest has a whole year of college under her belt and now prioritizes her summer job (which she plans to continue during college).

Where we used to plan summer trips around the kids’ schedules, now we can’t do the planning any longer. Now it’s an invitation to see how they can fit us into their busy schedule.

Yes, I’m proud. I raised them for this. Strong. Independent. Ready.

At the same time, I miss who they were—the times we had together, the play, the fun, the days when I was creating memories with them.

I’m holding tight to these last drops: a lunch date, a movie, an afternoon activity. I’m taking in the sound of keys jingling as my daughter walks out the door. The smell of my son's shampoo when he hugs me. The laughter during dinner time. The warmth of hugs and kisses. I’m immersing every fiber of my being in love.

I bought both my kids a wall art that reflects so well what I’m going through. It says, “Let me love you a little more before you’re not little anymore.”

I know change is inevitable. I know how to handle it. I welcome the new phases of life.

But right now?

The ride’s slowing. The station’s in sight.

And I’m keeping my arms up, hair in the wind—holding tight to every last loop.