A thought came upon me yesterday for the first time. It occurred to me that I had now lived more of my life on my own than under the roof of my parents. Kind of a random thought, but it did give me pause. As is normal for many American children, I moved out at 18 to navigate this crazy world myself.

In the years that would follow, if I experienced either an accomplishment or pitfall of being an adult under my own roof, I would think back to the not-so-distant past and compare it to when I lived with my mom and dad. Well, it doesn’t really seem as appropriate to do that now.

My brother and I stand in my parents’ driveway during a simpler time.

Then this morning another related thought hit me. It won’t be too long until I have lived more of my life with no grandparents alive than with any of them still on this earth. My grandma (and last living grandparent) passed away when I was a 19-year-old college freshman.

Again, I don’t know why over the past 24 hours these thoughts have registered with me. But I guess I can glean two things from them. One, I am old. And two, as I continue to log more and more time of separation from eras and events, I hope I never forget about them.

No matter how much time passes, may I always pleasantly remember the comfort of living home and the kindness of my grandparents. Don’t Blink.