This Saturday, my two nephews celebrated their golden birthday, turning 25 on April 25th.

I know it sounds like a cliché, but it just doesn’t seem possible. And at the risk of embarrassing these tiny-babies-turned-strapping-men, I can’t let it pass by without reflecting on it.

As someone who never had children of my own, I have been fortunate to watch my eight nieces and nephews grow through the various stages of life. And to play a large role in the daily lives of some of them.

The boys were born as I was transitioning from my job in corporate insurance to a camp for people with physical and developmental disabilities. It was an exciting time in my life, to say the least.

For a two-week period of time, I worked my old job in the morning and my new job in the afternoon.

Two days into that transition, the boys were born in Peoria, and so one evening after working the second job, I made the drive on Interstate 74 to meet these two new little guys in my life. Their big sister was 3 years old, ready and waiting for their arrival.

The first time I held them, the nurse put one in one arm and one in the other. As someone of small stature, it didn’t seem possible I could hold two little humans at the same time.

Even now, after all the life experiences I’ve journeyed through during those 25 years, that moment still inspires me with wonder and awe.

The boys and their big sister spent much time at my parents’ house while they grew up.

One time, when they were staying overnight as babies, my mom and I agreed she would wake with one of the boys, and I would wake with the other, should they get restless during the night.

I still remember attempting to rock Kid A (a moniker given by my Radiohead-obsessed brother) back to sleep, while softly singing the ABC’s to him. I’m thinking he eventually fell back to sleep, if for no other reason than to escape my awful singing voice.

Some of my favorite memories of them are of dropping them off and picking them up from preschool. It did this aunt’s heart a world of good to see their eyes light up when I walked in to sign them out and them erupting off the floor to run toward me full force.

When they were 12-going-on-13, the boys went with me to pick up a little black Labrador named Zeke. They took turns holding his squirrely puppiness as we drove home from rural Seneca.

And in 2020, while the world was locked down from the COVID-19 pandemic, the boys graduated from Streator High School, in the first and only drive-thru ceremony the school has seen in its parking lot. Although they were disappointed they could not walk in a typical graduation ceremony, the school did a fabulous job in making it a uniquely special moment in their lives.

As most parents likely do, I look back over the years the kids were growing up, and I am deeply grateful for having been able to play such a big role in their lives as their aunt. I grieve how quickly the time seems to have passed, and I regret the times I let them down by not being there for them at some of their school activities.

I hope as they remember their childhood, they remember my part in it in a positive enough light that those moments I wasn’t there for them can fade into the background.

Mostly, I can’t get over how quickly the time has gone.

People often make that comment, but you don’t really realize how true it is until after the time is gone. Now those little lives that were such a big part of mine have slipped through the fingers of time into their own, as it must be. As it should be.

In a couple of weeks, I will be traveling with some family members to watch as Kid A graduates from college in Missouri, and belatedly eating birthday cake in honor of this once-in-a-lifetime milestone in their lives.

I am proud of the boys and their sister for all they have accomplished, despite the challenges they have encountered.

And I am grateful for the little sparks of divinity in their hearts that I have been blessed to nurture and watch grow.

This traditional Irish blessing seems appropriate:

May the road rise to meet you,

May the wind be always at your back,

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

The rains fall soft upon your fields,

And until we meet again,

May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.