Maybe it’s the steady, thunderous ticking of my biological clock. What else could it be? My life is certainly far from devoid of meaning. I’m working a full-time job, maintaining a full-time relationship, and mothering full-time boys. If anything, I’m a bit overextended as it is.

What, then, can the matter be?

I just got home from Tulsa. Riveting though it was, it was also a long and arduous journey. There were 2 little girls on the plane, probably 1 and almost 3. I wish they would have shut up. Not because they were loud and obnoxious, although that did come later.

My heart was splintered. I watched them across the aisle and felt something inside of me sink and writhe. Twisted and brutal, something within me started screaming for its life. I watched them play and I watched their mother say all the right things and I hated them all. I’ve been blocking out memories of the boys at that age, lest they knock me out for the count. And now here they were, right here in front of me. It was one thing to shut out images of my babies playing and laughing together, innocent and carefree; and quite another to have to witness it being played out again, but in someone else’s world. A strange and wonderful world we’re no longer living in. We’ve left that one behind.

I turned my head to the window and I cried.

I couldn’t tell you the exact reason. It was just a darkness. A terrible sadness that enveloped me like — well, like a mother’s arms. I closed my eyes to the clouds beyond and saw visions of them still in diapers. They were fighting over a toy one minute and hugging and laughing the next. Winnie-the-Pooh was the height of entertainment and my lap was their favorite refuge in a storm.

Tonight we watched Dawn of the Dead. Their tastes in entertainment are shifting. If you had said to me 3 weeks ago, “They’ll be watching hardcore horror soon.” I would have scoffed at the notion. They like Pokemon! They love Goofy! If it’s not animated, don’t even bring it up to those two. Really, you’ll be wasting your time.

But then reality sets in and we’re in Blockbuster when Jacob asks, “Mom, can we watch Dawn of the Dead instead?” Instead of what? Instead of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Dawn of the Dead isn’t animated! It doesn’t even have a wacky sidekick! They’re Mutant Turtles! And they’re Ninjas! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I don’t even know you anymore.

They grew up like twins, those two. The way those girls were going to do. They would fight and they would bicker and each thought (and still thinks) the world was theirs. They were only letting us live in it. But they grew up close and they grew up sturdy, but mostly, they grew up fast. So fast. I felt an audible ache for the ability to go back in time, just for a minute. To go back and pick them up with a skinned knee and a tear-streaked face. To kiss an owie, to sing a lullaby. I want to go back to hear those voices, so much deeper now. I want to caress that soft, soft skin and hold those tiny, dirty hands.

I want the memories to come. Painful though it is. I want to feel those things and cherish them. Through the pain and tears, I want to look back. It’s a heartbreaking train wreck, but I can’t look away.

We just don’t know what we got, etc. I made a million wishes on that plane. I wish I had done some things differently. I wish I had made better decisions. I wish I had paid better attention, taken more care. I wish for it to not be too late.

We have so little time and we just piss it away.

They aren’t gone now. They’re still here. I’m making the most of what’s left of my time with them. I know they’re coming into their own. I’m just having a hard time with the coming.

This is, perhaps, the reason I wanted to rush home to Matt, to beg him to knock me up. Everything in me is screaming, “Your time is running out! You must hurry! They’re going to grow up and you won’t be able to replace them later. You’re certainly not getting any younger, you must supplement!” And maybe this is true. It sounds about right.

But I didn’t. I kept it to myself and pushed those memories far, far away for awhile. I let them go dormant again, only to inconveniently reappear at some other unexpected moment. I set it down as it was a heavy load, too heavy for me to drag around. My shoulders are aching and I am so weary. I put aside such silly thoughts and remembered all the good things about where I am now: No more babysitters. No more diapers. No more late-night feedings. No more carseats and strollers. No, I’m better off letting go.

But I can still hear the ticking. It’s so, so loud. Deafening. Formidable. Each strike brings panic and worry. I hate that clock. Listen. Do you hear it too?