This week, I happened to come across an old video of Sameer.

He must be around two years old—dressed in his superhero costume, still a little wobbly on his feet, yet sprinting around with pure joy as he explored the outdoors. Thanks to Google Photos, such little discoveries are plentiful. But this time, something else caught my attention: the background conversation between Sid and me.

Here’s the transcript:

His enthusiasm in interacting with me, his curiosity, his innocence… it all flooded me with a feeling of loss.
How many such conversations, dipped in thick sugary sweetness, did I brush aside in the chaos of life?
What a strong bond he must have felt to ask for my approval multiple times before bringing out his bike.

And now I find myself wondering:

Could I have done more? Spent more time? Talked to him more?

I felt this strong, almost physical urge to go back in time—to sit with that little boy for one more afternoon, listening closely to everything he had to say. To answer each tiny question with patience. To go on long bike rides. To spend hours flipping through geography magazines together.

It’s amazing the kind of emotional roller coaster motherhood takes you on.

I remember how I celebrated the arrival of the pre-teen years.
Suddenly, I had someone I could talk to like a friend—someone who participated in important household discussions, reviewed cars, researched flights, planned trips, and pretty much operated like another adult in the house.

But with growing responsibilities and interests, this mini-adult has become more independent and more absorbed in his own world.
Our conversations now are nuanced and thoughtful, but that wide-eyed innocence… that sweet dependence… is gone.

And of course, parents should want their kids to be independent.

But as Phil says to Haley, his 16 year old college bound daughter, in one episode of Modern Family:

“Look, your whole life, my job is to protect you — a job I kinda love. Now I feel like I’m being forced into early retirement.”

And I feel the same way—like I’m being gently, inevitably pushed into early retirement from a job I deeply loved.