I have written before about the passage of time and of how at times it is so quick, that it almost makes you doubt that anything has happened. And sometimes you just can’t believe that it is still the same day, minutes seem to take hours to pass. Time is such a confusing idea and a mystery that people have struggled to wrap their head around for centuries.

Of course the way you perceive time often depends on what you are experiencing at the moment. Waiting for someone you love to come home can take forever. Like the old adage a watched pot never boils. On the other hand, driving to the dentist can take exactly 2 seconds, landing you immediately in the chair, watching the novocaine needle coming at you.

Today as I sit in my house, I can’t help but stare at the many – and I mean many – photos of my children taken over the years. My middle child is about to graduate from college – an event that I often thought would never happen. After all they seem to be 2 for about 6 years. Then suddenly, in the middle of a day, you turn around and see a young woman standing before you when you are sure that you heard her say “babba juicky?” just 5 minutes ago.

And the real twist is that, as they magically transform into adults, you easily forget to see yourself changing. Your own transformation goes unnoticed and forgotten . . . . until it’s not.

Until that moment when you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, look in the mirror and see a person you don’t recognize. Someone who has eyes that mirror your daughter’s but who has much lighter hair, parched skin, and lines where just yesterday there were none. Suddenly you realize that ‘Oh my God, I have lived for a long time’. Enough time to have raised children, had a career, lost parents and maybe others, seen the change of seasons so often that you wonder how it could possibly be time to shovel snow. Again.

About 2 or so years ago, I experienced the last Christmas that my family would have in our family home. For the last time we gathered, as we had for many years, and celebrated the holiday season in the space that has seen our family grow.

We had an unusual but not unheard of situation. As divorced parents, we made it our mission to keep our children in their home until they were ready to head to college. We have come and gone weekly and they have stayed in their home. I am proud of this. It would be a lie to say that it has been easy. It most certainly has not. But I would do it all again. We spared them the constant moving to another house, another bedroom, and did it ourselves, for them.

That year as the holiday approached, I arrived on my “transition day” and found a Christmas Tree in the usual spot. This was not necessarily an issue. But as I looked at it I saw that it, without doubt, was the smallest, skinniest, saddest tree I had ever seen. I stood in the living room and felt all the years of our lives flash before me – ending with this tiny sad tree. And I cried. I stood in front of that tree remembering all the years spent together in that house. The celebrations, the heartache, the first dates, the new driver’s licenses, the break-ups, the fevers, the first look at perfectly aligned teeth, all the simple day to day humdrum and all the bigger more momentous feats.

When I pulled myself together, I left the room and could not return. I told my children that we would be getting another tree. This would NOT be the last Christmas tree the Webb Family decorated, fed with warm sugar water, carefully placed the misfit toys around, and watched as the family dog tried to nip the heels of the abominable snowman, dragging him from his perch to her bed.

It was at that moment that it hit me. All the time that seemed to take an eternity to pass, was suddenly, with a snap of my fingers, gone. Over. Done. Everyone was grown and on their way. Us included.

It is a strange feeling to know that as you have watched your children grow, you have grown up beside them. In so many ways you all grew up together. And, of course, that means that once grown, you move on and begin your “real life” as I used to think of it.

I suppose I should feel gratitude for having had so much ~ that house, my wonderful children, a full beautiful family raised, in a nest filled and wrapped in love. And I do – feel grateful that is. But on that day, during the last holiday season in our family house, I felt the sadness and melancholy that only comes with major transition. With a letting go of a piece of your personal history so that you can begin your next phase. One that with any luck will be at least as full as the last.