Where does all the wibbly wobbly timey wimey go?

If I stay still enough I can hear the sound of time whooshing by. I wonder where it's all going?

Although I do mourn the loss of precious moments, they are most precious because I remember them, not because I'm paused within them for the rest of eternity. 

I'm sitting in the deep lull between the crashing waves of time marching ever onwards, standing at the back of the picture watching the world rush on.

I don't want to hurry these next few days. I want to give them all my heart, all my attention. I want to remember them forever. 

My oldest girl is standing on the cusp of her new era. Tomorrow we will stand beside her as she graduates from primary school and moves on to the next stepping stone. 

I'm proud, oh so proud, slightly overwhelmed and nervous. I have many hopes for her future, which when put into words all become the same thing.

I hope she is happy. I hope she laughs. I hope that when someone knocks her down she will get back up and dance in their faces. I hope I can be everything she needs me to be.

That time I was talking about, it doesn't go anywhere, it becomes a part of us. Deep inside is every moment we have lived, and every now and then they flutter past, so brief and fleeting. 

It flows through us and into these beautiful little souls that grow and change and make our passing time sparkle and glow. 

And now it's time to loosen yet another string, so she can gather her own time, winding and twirling it around her soul and building herself as she goes.

I can't wait to see her begin.