the years are short
DESCRIPTION
Of everything I've ever written, I think this presentation (originally a one-minute video) is the thing that resonates most with people.TRANSCRIPT
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Once upon a time, but not very long ago, my daughter was too little to walk to school,
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Once upon a time, but not very long ago, my daughter was too little to walk to school,so we rode the city bus.
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Each morning, I tugged her along the sidewalk to the bus stop.
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Each morning, I tugged her along the sidewalk to the bus stop.Each morning, I gazed impatiently down Third Avenue,
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while she stared in ecstatic wonder at the treasures in the drugstore window.
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I didn’t particularly mind riding the bus, but I viewed a day off as a great treat.
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I didn’t particularly mind riding the bus, but I viewed a day off as a great treat.
I’d think with a ping of relief, “Phew, no bus ride today.”
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Until one morning,
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“Look, Mommy, look! A dog!” she exclaimed as, she pointed out the window at an ordinary dog on a leash.
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Then suddenly it hit me.
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Then suddenly it hit me.
This bus ride was it.
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This was parenthood, this was the childhood of my darling girl, this was life itself.
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One day—and that day probably wasn’t too far away—we’d no longer be riding the bus together.
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One day—and that day probably wasn’t too far away—we’d no longer be riding the bus together.
And I was frittering this time away.
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From then on, every morning, I thought, “Thank goodness, another day to ride the bus.”
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Now my little girl is bigger, and we walk the ten blocks to school. She still holds my hand, but I know this too will probably end soon.
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“Do you remember when we used to ride the bus to school?” I asked her the other day.
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“I remember,” she said. “I loved that bus ride.”
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“So did I,” I answered.
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The days are long,
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The days are long, but the years are short.