I understand now how quickly time passes once we’ve built our childhood foundation of hazy summers peppered with popsicles, melted crayons, and pennies flattened on train tracks. I am drawn to those days and years that passed like lifetimes. It’s looking behind a two-way mirror— What is it like over there where/when next year isn’t bearing down on you with ferocity? How do you start each day without the frustration of the day before? I want to revisit not fretting over a clock or calendar. As a mom my measure of time has come to be gauged by how long a pair of pants will last before skinny ankles peek through or pearly white belly presses at the waist, or whether I can wait to…