During the Christmas holidays this year, I fell asleep to the sound of my three adult children laughing and talking. It was delightful.

Imagine! All the time that has passed, all the moments, all the years, and now they are grown. All the nights I had to wait ’til they were asleep to fill the stockings, all the nights, all the nights. And now I am grey haired and falling asleep to their laughter.

They don’t see each other that often anymore, so spread out in age, so dedicated to their dreams, each one in a different big city, working hard. So gathering them under one roof is a special occasion. But once upon a time it was just this family, our strong bonds, our unit of care. Just us – my Joe, me and our kids.

As parents we were beacons of strength and resilience. We were always here, sharing everything, working, cooking meals, driving kids places, helping with homework. We never took a break, we never rested, we were invested entirely in the happiness and health of our children.

Now I see them all thriving, pursuing their dreams, challenging themselves and exploring the world, and I can tentatively say, we did a good job. I am cautious because I was brought up by a superstitious woman and there is doubtless more challenges to come, but I am proud of them.

I know that all three individuals try to be the best person they can be: brave and strong, resilient and generous. I trust my children. I trust them to be kind to the world and to each other. I trust them to figure out their lives and know when they need to change track, give themselves a break, or care for themselves better. I trust them to look after themselves.

And I trust that the spouses that they choose will care for them lovingly. We taught them to expect the best of love, absolute commitment, deep and abiding, and lots of laughter. I know they need and expect a loving partner, and I know they will find love or have found love already.

And by their actions, their strength and independence, their humour and love of life, I believe they are going to be alright. I can’t take away the financial stress of today’s mad economy anymore than I can calm the waters of the wild and heady times we live in, but I sincerely hope that we have taught them enough to question everything, especially the rolling out of the ‘new normal’.

But this is their time, so let them dream and enjoy the show. Lights across the sky are exciting and glorious and their young hearts will enjoy the spectacle whether it is real northern lights or a reflection of experiments on our ionosphere. A massive dragon made up 1500 of drones is awe inspiring, just like a parade of hundreds of soldiers on horses with wailing bagpipes. The old parents watch and frown.

But we delight in our children and when they left at the end of the holidays we shared a moment of shining eyes. The busy household, the constant cooking, the socks everywhere, and then suddenly, the quiet. My heart swirled around in my body, soaring into my throat. Where are all my chicks?

I miss the easy conversations that happen when you are physically close to your child; they say so much more than when you are on facetime or a call. And the warmth of their bodies, resting by them on the couch, hugging a strong young body or having a grown child rest her head on your shoulder for a few precious moments.

But it is busy and chaotic when I have my chicks under my wings. Navigating their needs, psychological and physical, balancing the attention, watching the interactions. When they were little it was my job to keep an eye on everything, the slight, the silence, the moods, and to be the one with the remedy, the right word, the smoothing actions.

But now we are done. They are grown and make up their own minds about how to live. They don’t trust me as much as they used to; they humour me, and look at me patiently and lovingly. They think they know better about how to live in this modern world and maybe they do.

Even for the short time that they were all back in our home I began to fall back into my behaviour as a full-on mom. I fed them, I doted on them, and I picked up after them. I had the urge to make appointments for a doctor or dentist. My mind leapt into problem solving as soon as I heard that one of them might be facing difficult challenges or obstacles.

It is a strong impulse, to feed and nurture my children, physically, emotionally, spiritually. It has been my strongest ambition, drive and purpose, since they were born.

I have to consciously pull back. I am not essential now, and they don’t necessarily listen to my advice. I am stepping back. I know that though I can be helpful here and there, a bonne mot, a bit of cash, a dash of positive reinforcement, my job is actually done. They are all grown.

There is nothing more sobering than acknowledging that your life’s job is done. The sight of your grown child is proof positive that you have lived and worked hard for those thirty years. Their very existence keeps you from living in denial of the length of your actual earth-dwelling passage.

It is evident that I have lived for quite some time and although I could have another twenty years, and I live my life with that in mind, it is also undeniably true that I am closer to the end. At some point I will leave this earthly body and become spirit and energy. I will become a memory made up of anecdotes; a face expression, a scent, an unexpected habit will remind them of me.

I see the last thirty two years in a kaleidoscope of images, scents and emotions. A fantastic swirling of light and colour, voices and laughter. I can see my husband and I swirling through the years of our lives creating a life force that we passed to our children while we held it all altogether.

A baby nursing in my arms with a little hand on mine, the scent of the top of a child’s head when you read to them, a toddler packed into a snow suit sliding down a hill in my lap, dusting sand from between small toes after a day at the beach, school books splayed across the kitchen table, teens leaping out of the car to greet their friends, and young college kids looking thoughtful in the back of a car packed full of suitcases.

And in that swirl, I feel my full, whole self. That girl of ten, that woman of twenty, all my years are still alive in this woman of sixty. My spirit, my heart, has never changed. Free of my vigilant mothering, able to step back and observe now, I can hear my younger voice, my unalloyed punk spirit, rallying to me, you still have shit to do.