Time, Age and Losing My Mind

Fall and Spring sometimes do this weird thing to me. I feel the change in the air, and for a tiny second I can’t remember if the winter is coming or going. It’s the same kind of feeling you get when someone asks you how old you are and you have to count on your fingers because somewhere in the passage of days, you’ve lost track of the years.
When my four year old said the prayer the other day I thought it was her little cousin. It was strange how they said the very same things in their prayer. Afterward when I saw it was Sarah, her voice slipped back into familiarity where a minute earlier it had seemed different. There was a sweetness to it, a baby softness, an innocence and clarity that I wouldn’t have noticed if I would have been listening for her voice. I was glad for the chance to hear her through a fresh perspective.
The week before that I went to Jimmy’s high school choir concert. He was so big and handsome, and when I pointed him out to Dad, I had a momentary panic that I’d pointed to the wrong boy. How embarrassing that would have been not to recognize my own child. I didn’t doubt it was partly due to bad eyes, and partly because I’m losing my mind. I think the other part of it is that it’s a shock to see him grown up and almost a man. How could I be expected to spot him looking like that when in my head he’s still my little boy?
The most disturbing thing is when I see myself with the same kind of shock. I’m all grown up too. I have wrinkles around my eyes and three white hairs, and when I catch sight of myself in a mirror with a room full of parents, I look like I belong. What a shock it is to come face to face with time and age and not recognize where you went.