Parenting teenagers comes with a strange sense of finality. A family vacation reminded me to enjoy every moment.

I had no idea that the last bedtime story I read my kids would be the last ever. Or that the last time I held them — or kissed a scraped knee or sang them a silly song — would be the last time I’d do any of those things.

That’s a good thing, of course. It saved me, at least in the moment, from the pain of knowing those sweet little rituals were coming to an end. But realizing it later opens the door to a new awareness of just how quickly it all goes. And, for me anyway, a new dread that it will be over far faster than I’m comfortable with.

Parenting teens has a weird finality to it

Unlike when your kids are little, and their needy period seems to drag infinitely (and exhaustingly) on, there’s this weird sense of finality when you’re parenting teens and young adults. Because one of the things that happens as your kids get older is that you realize just how painfully true that adage is — you know, the one you rolled your eyes at as the weary parent of a toddler — “The days are long, but the years are short.”

Unfortunately, another thing that happens when they get older is that they pull away. One minute, you can’t even make a solo trip to the bathroom, and the next, between friends and extracurriculars and part-time jobsyou’re practically begging them to hang out with you.

So, like any mom who’s secretly feeling desperate to grasp any moment of connection she can, I made my four boys, ranging in age from 13 to 20, an offer they couldn’t refuse: a family vacation. To them, it was a trip to Beaches Turks and Caicos. To their dad and me, it was a precious chance to soak up these last few opportunities for complete togetherness.

We can see the empty nest coming

They’re all still living at home, but our oldest will soon turn 21, our second is graduating in a couple of weeks, our third graduates next year, and the “baby” is entering high school — so we’re all too aware that we’re hurtling toward an empty nest at breakneck speed.

Even though we won’t be there for a few years yet, our time as a family of six is dwindling fast; this vacation was the perfect way to create those last few memories while we’re still all together. And what better place to do it than in a literal paradise, where even the moodiest teenager can’t help but be a little less surly?

At home, I’d have been in my PJs by 7 p.m., but bolstered by the warm Caribbean breeze, we ventured out for the Friday night street party, led by a vibrant parade of dancers and musicians with an intoxicating beat. I can’t recall the last time my kids and I smiled and danced to the same music, but miraculously, here we were.

Watching my boys become men happened gradually — and all at once

I couldn’t help watch the parents with their toddlers in tow, wishing I could magically compel them to really savor this time with their littles, like some harbinger from the future. But that’s one of the things you only truly realize once those days are behind you, so I just looked at my own kids and reflected.

Their rounded faces have sharpened into jawlines, their voices have deepened into those of men, and I couldn’t pick any of them up if I tried. It happened so fast. And it makes me realize the importance of taking these moments when I can, even if they look a little different than they used to. Because at this age, “together” doesn’t necessarily mean always doing everything as an entire family unit.

I don’t know if this was our last family vacation

Hopefully, that’s a metaphor for how life will go. They’ll venture out, they’ll experience things on their own, but they’ll always come back to loop us in on how things are going. And maybe, hopefully, they’ll experience some of those things together, even if it doesn’t involve their parents.

Someday we’ll take our last-ever vacation as a family before everyone heads in different directions; whether it was this one, I don’t know. But I do know that I’m eternally grateful we took the opportunity to squeeze it in before the window closes. And I’m pretty sure our kids know that no matter where life takes them, we’re always here when they want to come back, eager to hear every last detail of their adventures.