Present and future tense

My first day back at the office post-pandemic, I took my two daughters–both under 2 at the time–to their first day of daycare.

After I dropped them off, I cried.

On my way to work that day, I promised myself this: “When I am with my girls, I will strive to be present.”

Jewish tradition teaches us to value being present, to pay attention to the small moments–the extraordinary nature of the ordinary moments. As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said: “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement…Get up every morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”

Heschel’s sentiments are beautiful in theory, but not always easy to practice in the real world. And yet, since having children, I appreciate the “radical amazement” of life so much more through their pristine lenses. I love watching them delight in the simple pleasures of noticing a bird in a tree, cracking an egg, or playing with Silly Putty.

But I’d be lying if I told you that all our moments together are as quaint and ripped from a Rockwell painting as these. In fact, most are much louder and messier. As much as I try to stay in the present with them, time seems to be speeding up, and the future is morphing into the present faster than ever.

Take, for example, my 2-year-old daughter, the younger of the two. Earlier this summer, she graduated from her crib to a “big girl” bed, a toddler bed that I picture to be the size of Baby Bear’s bed in Goldilocks and the Three Bears. It seemed like she jumped from bassinet to crib to bed in record time.

More than anything, I want my daughters to blossom from sweet and happy girls into menschy and happy young women. But I wasn’t expecting them to blossom so fast!

Recently, I caught a short documentary film called How Do You Measure a Year? (I figure I’ll return to feature-length films when my daughters leave for college.) The Oscar-nominated film chronicles a father and his daughter’s relationship through home movies. Created by Jewish filmmaker Jay Rosenblatt, the film is profound, yet employs a simple technique.

Every year, on daughter Ella’s birthday–from ages 2 to 18–Rosenblatt asks her a list of questions like: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “What is power?” and “If you were speaking to your 25-year-old self, what would you say?”

The film’s brevity, only 29 minutes, seems intentional. In a half hour, we watch Ella evolve from a precocious toddler to a sullen tween to a poised young woman.

I’m still a novice parent (not yet four years in), but I imagine if the film resonates with me, it’d certainly ring true with more seasoned moms and dads–like the parents who spawned each of this year’s 36 Under 36 honoree: kvell -worthy young members of our community changing the world for good, who you’ll meet later in this issue.

If we asked the parents of these impressive young adults whether the years raising their children feel like they’ve flown by, I bet most of them would say “yes.”

Just like this 36 Under 36 class, I hope one day my children will change the world for good. I hope they’ll live according to the same values–compassion, generosity, tikkun olam , and community.

And that day will get here faster than I could ever have imagined.