As I approach my 39th birthday this weekend, I’m struck by how much more aware I’ve become of the passage of time. It’s something I notice in moments that seem to sneak up on me more than anything else. It could be while I’m flicking through the thousands of photos I’ve taken of my kids or seeing a new-born and remembering the days when my own children were so tiny I could bathe them in the kitchen sink. It feels impossible to reconcile that my eldest is now 20. How did that happen!?
It’s impossible to reconcile in my brain just how quickly time seems to move, but how slowly time also ticks past. Between those years, so much life has unfolded—yet it all seems to have happened in the blink of an eye. One minute I’m tucking them up safe and sound, the next I’m watching them prepare to step out into the world as adults.
Chasing After Moments You Just Can’t Hold
There are times when it feels like I’m chasing after moments I can’t quite hold onto. I catch myself always wishing I could slow down time. The mess, the noise, the chaos that fills my house—the fingerprints on windows, toys scattered across every room, the constant energy—these are the things that will one day be gone. And it’s this knowledge that stops me dead in my tracks. I try to hold my kids a little tighter, knowing that the quiet that follows their growing up will be as deafening as the noise is today.
But there’s something deeper at play here, something that has been a part of me for a long time. I’ve come to realize that I struggle to remember many parts of my own childhood. I find myself grasping at fragments, memories that don’t always come together clearly. And maybe that has something to do with losing my father when I was just 13. There’s a part of me that thinks I blocked out big chunks of those early years as a way to cope with the loss, to protect myself from the grief. Whatever the reason, there are large gaps, especially when it comes to the good moments, the things I wish I could hold onto more clearly.
The Looming Reality of the big “40”
Maybe that’s why I feel such an urgency when it comes to time now. I know all too well how fleeting life can be. Losing my father at such a young age left me with an acute awareness of time's fragility. I think about how much I’ve already missed in terms of childhood memories, and I fear that, despite my best efforts, I could lose pieces of my own kids’ lives too. It’s something I’m always thinking about, and it’s that fear that drives me to try to be present, to make the most of the time I have with them.
But here’s the truth—I’m not claiming to be some expert on how to use time. Far from it. I’m still guilty of wasting it. Whether it’s spending too much time scrolling on my phone, getting caught up in work that doesn’t matter in the long run, or simply letting the days blur together, I know I’m not seizing every moment. I’m trying to get better at it, for everyone’s sake—for my kids, for my wife, for my own peace of mind. I don’t want to look back one day and regret how I spent my time.
So, even though I slip up more often than I’d like, I’m learning. I’m trying to make sure that the time I do spend is meaningful, that it’s filled with purpose and connection.
Feeling Time in Every Ailment and Milestone
It’s not just the personal side of life where I feel the passage of time, though. Professionally, it’s something that hits hard as well. Almost 20 years into my career, I’m more aware than ever of how quickly time moves. There’s a certain shock that comes with realizing I’ve now spent more time working than I did growing up. How did that happen? Time has a way of sneaking up on us, and for me, it’s a constant reminder to stay grounded in what really matters.
And then there’s the physical side of things. Time doesn’t just show up in memories or career milestones—it’s in my body, too. The longer recovery times after football games, the lingering pain from injuries that used to heal quickly—it’s all part of the reminder that I’m not in my twenties anymore. Simple knocks or minor injuries like broken fingers now take longer to bounce back from, and with every ache and pain, I feel the years catching up to me. Of course, with 40 looming on the horizon, it’s hard to ignore the signs. That big milestone we’re all told marks the start of "real adulthood"—as if the grey hairs and slower recovery times hadn’t already made that clear.
The funny thing about time is that it feels endless when you’re young. We grow up thinking we have all the time in the world. But the older we get, the more we realize just how fast it slips away. I think about that a lot these days—about how I’ve spent more time with my kids than my father was able to spend with me and my siblings. That thought alone brings everything into sharper focus. It makes me reconsider how I’m spending my days and what really matters at the end of it all.
Learning to Live Fully in the Moments
Maybe that’s why I find myself looking back so often—flipping through photos, trying to freeze those fleeting moments in my mind. Because time, for all its beauty, is relentless. It’s always moving forward, whether we’re ready for it or not. But in that, I think, lies the real lesson for me.
So, as I stand on the cusp of 39, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t slow down time, no matter how much I want to. But I can be more mindful of how I use it. I may not always remember every moment in perfect clarity, but I can make sure that the time I do spend is meaningful and filled with purpose. Whether it’s cherishing the everyday chaos at home, investing in relationships with family, friends, and colleagues, or simply being present, I’m learning that the real value of time is in how we live it, not how long it lasts.
And while I’m not perfect, and I’m still learning, I’m trying. Trying to live more fully.
I can’t change the fact that recovery takes longer, or that my kids are growing up faster than I ever thought possible, but I choose to embrace each day as it comes. I try to make the most of the moments I do have, and trust that the memories that truly matter will stay with me in ways I can’t always predict. Maybe the real power of time isn’t in trying to hold onto it, but in knowing that we’ve lived it fully.
To paraphrase my wonderful wife “At the end of the day, it’s not about how much time we have, but what we do with it that will really make all the difference.“