This year I realized how LITTLE they are. Normally, I feel this sort of nostalgia as I think about how old they're becoming. But this year...maybe because I've been listening to Destroyer so much...I just realized they're so new. Even Umberto, about to be 8, just hasn't been here very long. They're so fresh to life. Sometimes this freshness makes glaring my own cynicism about life, and when that freshness touches that dark place, that discouragement, I feel awakened like Spring. But other times, I feel an overwhelming sadness that this is what we are offering them.
And then I think about how for too many children 8 is already old.