I know where the years go

If you are under ten, you long for the day when you can have your freedom and run your own life. If your are nearer twenty, you wonder why it isn't happening yet. Then you get to thirty and think of all the things you could have done in your twenties. And then you think - am I grown up yet? Then before you know where you are, you suppose you must be grown up, even though you don't feel it, because you sort of know stuff that takes a long time to learn, and you get together with your old friends, and somebody will say, 'where do the years go? Well, I know the answer to that. Today we went to our oldest godson's wedding, which doesn't quite add up to 'embarrass your godson day', but it's a great opportunity, so we took two photographs of the dashing young bridegroom when he was just learning to walk, waddling along the beach and eating sand. We had some great holidays together - four adults, six kids, one dog. Sadly the dog now only wags his tail on the web pages, but the rest of us are OK. Which brings me to the point - I know where the years went. They poured into the children, turning them from tumbling climbing, chasing, shouting, crying, laughing, playing, exasperating, funny puppies into those three poised, clever, pleasant young men I met today, to say nothing of my own Daughter, LOS and LYS. A pretty good result, I think. Six pretty good results. Perhaps we did something good. And the years have asked something of me, too.