Tick Tock

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Time passes so slowly when we’re young. We don’t realize it then. Christmas feels forever away. Birthdays take ages to arrive. School years drag on, vacations seem impossibly distant, and everything ahead of us feels stretched out, unhurried. Days are long. Years creep by. We assume this is just how time works.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock.

Of course, time never actually speeds up or slows down. It’s always moving at the same pace. What changes is us—how we experience it. The first time we really notice the shift is after high school, when life stops being measured in semesters and starts being measured in decisions. The calendar doesn’t change much, but suddenly everything feels faster. One moment we’re moving on to the “next thing,” and before we’ve really processed it, we’ve earned a degree—or started a career—met someone, fallen in love, and committed our lives to another person. Somewhere in there, we pause just long enough to wonder how we arrived here. Then, almost immediately, we’re preparing for our first child, and time accelerates again.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick Tock.

Then twenty-five years pass. Just like that. A blink. Children who once fit perfectly in your arms are suddenly grown. Some are out of the house. The ones still at home feel like they’re already halfway gone, and you’re painfully aware of how little time remains. People who have been with you your entire life begin to disappear. Funerals become more frequent. Mortality stops being theoretical. You remember first vacations, first Christmases, first moments—moments that feel like they happened yesterday—and yet here you are. Time hasn’t stopped. It hasn’t sped up. But it feels relentless now.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
Tick.

I’m not fully at this next stage yet—but I can see it coming. Mostly because it’s already started. I feel like I just put the Christmas decorations up, and now I’m taking them down. I turn around, and it’s time to put them back up again. Life is full—busy, active, meaningful—but once the moments pass, they blur together. Days are lived, but they don’t linger. And the realizations grow sharper: spend time with the people you love. Be present. Don’t assume there will always be another chance. The “I should haves” and “I’ll get to it laters” don’t just bring regret—they make time feel even faster.

Tick Tock.

Time is the one commodity you can’t get back. The only thing that feels like it accelerates the longer you live, even though it never truly does. Your body keeps pace with it whether you like it or not, while your mind insists you’re younger than you are. So here’s to taking down the decorations, turning around, and realizing another year has begun.

Tick.

Or is it 2032 already?

Tock.

Am I even still here?

T————-