Time Is Ticking
by Melody Tan | 17 July 2025 |
I’m writing this having waved my soon-to-be nine-years-old son goodbye. He’s off to school independently, on a public bus for the first time.
Let me clarify that this was just a trial run. We are not planning for this to be the beginning of a new going-to-school routine. And, we had done numerous safety checks, risk assessments, and danger mitigation prior to this momentous occasion.
Despite all of that, I involuntarily emitted a nervous exclamation as the bus headed off without me, with my only child on board.
(This may sound unlikely, but I would like to state for the record that prior to this, I had been calmer about this entire situation than my husband.)
I also cannot wait till I’m reunited with him at the end of the school day.
(Upon when, he revealed with a laugh that he heard me yelling as the bus pulled away).
The tyranny of time
You parents will relate: how quickly time seems to pass when it comes to our children! You blink, and suddenly they’re all grown up.
Correction: Parents of older children will relate to this feeling. Those in the midst of late-night feeds, nappy changes, and sleep deprivation mostly feel their torture will never end.
I certainly felt that way when my son was born: I thought my life as I knew it was over. It wasn’t that I resented my child for my “new life”—it was different and difficult, but I was also willing to go through it because I had grown hopelessly in love with this new addition.
Lucky for him, he also didn’t come with a convenient “return to sender” label, so I was stuck with him whether I liked it or not.
Time stretched on forever in the first few years. As the caregiver of a child without siblings or pets, it felt relentless as I played the role of playmate and parent. It didn’t feel like there was any down time, especially because my child’s personality meant he was both high energy, and hated doing things by himself.
Now, however, I’m trying not to hyperventilate as I come to the realization that the “new life” as I know it may soon be over.
Time is ticking.
Growing wings
Just last week, my son spent the majority of Sunday out of our house, playing with the neighbours’ kids. They were running back and forth, having a wonderful time in each other’s houses, mostly in the various front and back yards.
From once lamenting the loss of Sundays when I was free to do whatever I wanted, now I felt a little disorientated as I tried to occupy myself while he was out and about.
I even had time to read a novel. In the middle of the day.
It also wasn’t lost on me that just the previous Sunday, he and I had spent the entire day together, riding our bikes into town to visit the library, and playing games when we returned home. He was particularly happy that day, giving me hugs, randomly telling me how much he loved me, and declaring it “the best day of his life.” I had to admit, I had a good time, and I felt especially close to him, too.
The reality is, the closeness we now have will only grow more distant as my baby boy grows towards double-digits in his age. I’m well aware he will prefer to be with his friends more than he would with me the older he gets, until one day he flies the nest forever.
As it is, I’m preparing him for that day: teaching him how to cook, clean, budget, and look after himself (and others).
Yet, I am fighting an irrepressible desire to keep him to myself. To hold him forever. To keep him under my wings for eternity.
Time is ticking.
The future
A few weeks ago, one of my workmate’s sons got married. He told me his son was 21. My brain automatically did the math, and within seconds I started having this strange feeling in my heart, like it was being twisted and pulled every which way.
I had to entertain the possibility that in 13 years’ time, my son could very well be somebody’s husband. I had 13 years before I may become a mother-in-law and perhaps just a few more after that before I became a grandmother. What would his partner be like? Would we get along? Would we like each other? Would they want children? Would my son even find someone?
I didn’t let out an audible exclamation then like I did when I sent my son off on his own on a public bus, but there were all sorts of bells clanging in my head at that moment.
Time is ticking.
The present
There’s nothing I can do about the passage of time. It’ll continue to tick, and as my son and I get older, it will feel like it’s ticking faster. All the time I spent wondering when I’d get my independence back is now spent wondering when my son will fully gain his—leaving me behind.
I don’t and won’t blame him for doing it, but the desire to hold him in my arms forever is often involuntarily triggered.
Until he flies off, however, I’ll just have to focus on making memories and treasuring the moments we get to spend together now. I’ll cherish that he’s currently at the stage where he’d have no qualms about randomly giving me hugs in front of his friends, allows me to show him affection in public, and actually chooses to hang out with me. I’ll enjoy his warmth: inhaling him in whenever he throws himself into my arms.
These little moments will likely fade in practice, but will live on and glow in my heart.
Even as time ticks away.
Melody Tan is a freelance writer, content creator, and editor for both print and digital. She is currently the project leader of “Mums At The Table,” a multimedia initiative aimed at supporting mothers in their parenting journey, through education and community. She and her husband live in Sydney, Australia, with their son.
