In Ten Years’ Time

A Poem of Hope for Parents and Dreamers

Introduction

The days of parenting can feel long, yet the years slip quickly through our fingers. We often wonder: what will life look like in ten years’ time? Will our children be strong? Will we still be carrying the same struggles, or will we have found peace?

This poem is a meditation on the future — not as a fearful unknown, but as a place we can lean toward with hope. It is written for parents who are tired today but still dream of tomorrow, and for anyone who wants to believe that love continues to grow across the years.

The Poem – In Ten Years’ Time

In ten years’ time,

the shoes by the door will be larger,

and the coats on the hooks

will no longer smell of crayons and playground dust.

In ten years’ time,

the laughter will echo differently —

lower voices,

grown-up jokes I may not understand.

But I will remember these days,

the scraped knees,

the bedtime stories,

the way they called my name

as if I were the whole sky.

In ten years’ time,

the table will still hold four plates,

but the talk will stretch further,

beyond cartoons and playground games,

into dreams and decisions,

into futures waiting to be shaped.

I will sit and listen,

half-proud, half-nostalgic,

remembering when their dreams

were as simple as a balloon

or a packet of sweets.

In ten years’ time,

my own face will carry lines

I cannot yet see,

and my hands will tell

the quiet story of years poured out.

But my heart will still be theirs.

It always will.

And when they leave

to make homes of their own,

I will stand at the door,

not with sorrow,

but with gratitude,

knowing I was part of the soil

from which they grew.

Healing Reflection

This poem looks ahead — not with fear of what we will lose, but with hope for what we will see. Parenting often feels endless in the moment: the sleepless nights, the endless laundry, the tantrums that stretch your patience. But time is moving, shaping children into the adults they will become.

Thinking in ten-year frames helps us shift perspective. The exhaustion of today will not last forever, and the seeds you are planting now — patience, kindness, stability, love — will show themselves in the years ahead.

Why Looking Ahead Helps

It lifts the weight of the moment. Reminding yourself “this won’t last forever” helps soften today’s struggles. It brings meaning to the small tasks. Every bedtime story, every school run, every hug is part of the foundation of the future. It helps us parent with hope instead of fear. Looking ten years ahead reminds us we are building, not just surviving.

Ten Years’ Time Is Closer Than We Think

The years are both long and short. Ask any parent who has watched a baby grow into a teenager — it feels like forever, and also like a blink. That’s why it matters to pause now, to notice the present, while still carrying hope for the future.

Maybe in ten years, your child will be studying, travelling, starting a career, or raising children of their own. Maybe you will have discovered new strengths, new peace, or even new dreams for yourself.

Ten years will bring changes, yes, but also continuity. The love you carry today will still be there, written into your children’s hearts, shaping their choices even when you are not standing right beside them.

Closing Reflection

So when today feels heavy, when your cup feels empty, try to whisper this thought: in ten years’ time, things will look different. Not worse. Not gone. Just different — and still held together by love.

Let this thought carry you. Let it remind you that parenting is not only about surviving today, but about building something that will bloom tomorrow.

💌 Closing Note

Thank you for reading.

If this poem spoke to your heart, please consider subscribing for more writing on healing, motherhood, and resilience.

👉 Subscribe to my blog here


Discover more from Mother's Ritual

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Leave a Reply

Discover more from Mother's Ritual

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading