One year ago, this guy was a squishy infant that cried for mysterious reasons and slept in two-hour stretches. Now he looks like he’s twelve and is ready to mow lawns for toy money. This is going by very, very fast. And while I am thankful he is healthy, that he sleeps well and that he has a wonderfully happy disposition, I’m also marveling at the passage of time. Diego is proof of relativity to me. For him, a long walk is a pretty decent percent of his day, his week, his life. For me, that week is a blink, a minuscule percentage overshadowed by endless hours of work, commutes, obligations. I’m feeling older of late and time seems like it cannot slow down. I look at Diego’s growth as a startling reminder that we need to draw out the joy in life and fight the speed with which each day wants to hurry once you hit mid-life. We must all be “Little Captains,” steering our lives toward ab inevitable horizon, but enjoying the waves, the views and the opportunities that abound during our voyage.
