March is punctuated by moments in which I mark the passage of time: my birthday, daylight savings, often Passover. As I'm prone to nostalgia (my husband might say plagued by it), I usually spend much of the month feeling wistful about how quickly my kids are growing up, and how quickly I'm growing old.
For a year, time has stood still. Though I know my kids have matured and changed, I struggle to see it because I'm with them every second of every day. Now time is starting to move again. Will my kids walk back out into the world and age a full year before my eyes?
Preparing myself for that potential whiplash makes me savor what's left of this stage of lockdown, in which I command my girls' full attention by default. I'm simultaneously nostalgic for this time in our lives and eager for it to end. Many of you who've written to me are feeling this paradox, too. How are you managing it? Write to me at andrea@time.com. I'd love to know if you're deliberately pacing your family's transition back to public life or just letting time march on.
"My parents loved and would have done anything within their power for me," writes author Nicole Chung. "But one thing they struggled to do, at least fully and consistently, was to see and understand me as a Korean-American woman."
Ellen Oh writes about raising two Asian-American daughters. "Even as I wonder how I'm going to save my daughters," she says. "I'm starting to realize that it is my girls and their generation who will save me, save us."
A recent Netflix documentary covers the Varsity Blues college admission scandal. Here's what you need to know about the show and the scandal that inspired it.
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