I’ve always been acutely aware of the passage of time and kind of always remember being that way. And as a photographer, I try to capture pieces of that time to hold onto. Yet, I still say things like “time flies.” Time doesn’t just fly of course. It drags. It stretches. It sometimes opens up and almost swallows you. And sometimes, looking back, it does feel like time actually flies.

Almost 10 years ago I read a piece in Slate written by Rob Lowe about sending his son Matthew off to college (https://slate.com/human-interest/2014/05/rob-lowe-on-sending-his-son-off-to-college-an-excerpt-from-love-life.html). I read it with curiosity and a little surprise. I’ll openly admit that I’m a completely sentimental memory chaser, but I was surprised by how articulately Rob Lowe expressed being blindsided by heartbreak while dropping off his son at college. “I’m trying to remember when I felt like this before. Like an el­ephant is sitting on my chest, like my throat is so tight and constricted that I can feel its tendons, like my eyes are 100 percent water, spilling out at will, down pathways on my face that have been dry for as long as I can think of. I’m trying to remember: When was the last time my heart was breaking?”

At the time I read it, I thought, “Someday that will be me.” So, guess what? We have arrived… I couldn’t be more excited for the moments and experiences ahead of my son as he leaves for college today, but I also feel as if there is an elephant sitting on my chest.

I’m not thinking about individual memories today, but more about the different “types of time.”

Those long afternoons in preschool when I was secretly and exhaustedly excited as we approached bedtime…

That period of time when I was the least “cool” person on the planet and I would scarcely get a grunt as an answer unless he truly needed something.

That time when we were in the middle of a global pandemic and I taught him how to drive and he showed me the magic of fly fishing.

The moments after he was seriously injured playing the sport he loves and the weeks of painfully watching him sidelined and frustrated only to have him return and make a meaningful impact on the ice.

Way back in early elementary school when I was worried that he’d never make true friends or be part of a real group; then feeling like a group of 10 of the best of friends had permanently moved into our basement where nightly laughter filtered upstairs… And I know he found his “people.”

And how now my night owl partner who openly shares beautiful pieces of himself with me unguarded and sincerely won’t be in the house.

I will, of course, be fine. But I’m really going to miss this boy—even the loud, messy parts!

Back to time flying… Don’t forget to notice the moments, say the words, and yes as a photographer I need to remind you to take the pictures (and get in the pictures with your kids). Don’t let time be a thief!

You only get 18 summers, 18 holiday breaks, 18 years.

More on that…