Time is speeding up. I have no evidence for this statement but I am utterly convinced that it is true. It seems to be Christmas every six months. This last year has been the quickest yet. I fear that record will continue to be broken every single year. The strangest part is that it is only at times like Christmas that I realise it. The rest is more of a blur spent doing very important things. Most of which I cannot easily recall. They certainly felt important at the time.
When my parents were the age I am now I thought they were ancient. I was sure that they could not possibly understand me or the things that were important to me. They were just too old. Things had changed. It was now (then) a new world. I’m now likely on the wrong side of that. If anything, the pace of change in our world has quickened. Our children face challenges that we never did.
Technology has changed everything. A lot for the good but not all. In my day (can’t believe I can appropriately use that statement) the bullies couldn’t get at you in your own home. And yet I feel like I am in touch and can empathise and help. I suspect my parents were the same. I wonder if I will be able to convince the kids of this?
It doesn’t feel so long ago that I was desperately trying to go to sleep on Christmas eve so Santa could visit. I know how that feels. Having children of my own means that magic is back. I don’t think I can do anything to slow down time but at Christmas I realise that the important things are the small things. The childhood memories that stick out most for me are good fun times with family and friends. That’s what’s important. The children give us the opportunity to create a whole new set of memories for them. Christmas is great.
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