Today in "Time Is Moving Too Fast And I Literally Cannot Stand It"... is this what it was like for our own parents, huddled at the kitchen table with photo albums and glasses of wine, wiping tears from their cheeks and pulling us in for awkward hugs? "You're so grown-up now," my mother would say. "I don't know when it happened." And I would pull myself out of her arms and grumble ("okay, MOM, ugh!") and rummage in the cupboards for a snack while she sat there, aching, missing me. I'm scrolling on a iPhone, saving images from my husband's Facebook gallery to my photo roll while I drink mint tea and wipe my cheeks, wondering when it happened. Aching; missing them. But it's all the same. It's always been the same. They knew and we know and someday - someday - our kids will know, too. Love is at once beyond time and totally bound up in it, and our hearts have to learn to live in the now and the always and also in the long-gone. And that's amazing, but also hard. So hard. But worth it.