The endless present. When I try to put my finger on what childhood feels like, those are the words that come to mind. I’m thinking of this now as my oldest daughter, the Book Princess, embarks on the next stage of her life, with her marriage. Some periods of life – childhood, even being the parent of young children – have that sense of being the endless now. And then you move out of that moment, and discover that you were wrong. No now is endless, all moments pass. It’s a strange thing to be at that place where you can see the story of life unfold, with all its ups and downs. But milestones like these tend to bring them on. And I guess that the rhythm of submerging in that endless present and then bobbing to the surface to look across at the waves and dips is why I like writing so much, and specifically writing for a young audience. That feeling of the now, that fragile fantasy of always and forever, brings with it so much pleasure and so much pain. It never ceases to fascinate me. So, to my Book Princess, who has so recently emerged from one endless present herself, congratulations. The story of life is a wonder, and I love watching yours unfold.
adina rishe gewirtz 
It is, indeed, an odd stage of my life when I finally confront the reality that the “endless now” exists only as a veil to allow me to function with the day-to-day details of living my life. As my own children “age-out” of their youthful home – one contemplating marriage, another evaluating graduate opportunities, the youngest preparing for University – that veil slips more regularly. I keep pulling it back over my eyes, much as the early morning light is shielded by my down comforter to put off the responsibilities of the day a few moments longer…
Thank you for sharing such a lovely way to contemplate the forthcoming empty nest.
So beautifully put!
Haunting. What a beautiful way to express why you write for children.