Sunday, November 27, 2011

Headache=Re-post

Massive headache. Even the light from my laptop hurts.  So, I'm re-posting one of my favorites, hope you don't mind.  And, here's hoping someone will remove the vice from my noggin by tomorrow.

Don't Blink




 I hurried you along today.  You were doing your thing, climbing counters, poking the cake I just made, playing the wii.  was in a hurry.
 'Time for school. Let's go.'
I got you dressed, and didn't laugh at your antics.
 'We need to hurry.'
 You wanted to clean your own face- no time. I did it for you and you grimaced. Once we were ready (finally!) you insisted on going around the block.  My shoulders drooped. Fine. I tried to rush you as you got out your scooter.
 'Come. On.'
Down the street, I urged you to go faster.
 'We'll be late.'
  My poky little puppy, you had better things to do.  Like inspecting the 'snakes' left all over the sidewalk after yesterday's rain.
 'Please don't stop.' when you did just that to make tracks in a nice circle of mud.  Standing at the corner, I almost tapped my foot with impatience.
Then, as I watched you push/pull your scooter up the hill, I had a glimpse.  A momentary flash of you, just, when was it? Just a moment ago when you were a newborn with your wild brown hair and big blue eyes.  I swore I would hold you every minute I could.  You were my last and I would cherish every.single.second.  And I did.



 But, here we are.  I blinked and now you're 4.  Mr. Independent.  You play with friends and ride your bike.  You can dress yourself and get your own juice.



If I blink again, you'll be in school- real school.  Our days together will end as I send you off on the big yellow bus you can't wait to ride.
Blink* You'll start jr. high- noticing girls, going to Scouts, and spending even more time with friends and less at home with me.
Blink* High school.  Dating, driving and the prom.  Graduation and jobs.
Blink* We'll fill out mission papers, and then, you'll really be gone.

I stood at the corner and waited. Suddenly patience washed over me.  I closed my mouth and opened my eyes and ears.  I let you lead.  Your pace, poky as it may be, became mine.  I watched as you scooted along, noticing flowers, peeking through fences, picking up rocks.  The world, so mundane and repetitive to me is oh, so new and adventurous to you.
We were late for school.  So not a tragedy. You gave me a quick kiss, then with a thumbs-up and a wave, you strolled to the door.
The sands of time aren't flowing, they're streaming past with jet plane speed.  I'll try to stop hurrying it along and heaven knows, I'm trying not to blink.

3 comments:

  1. So sweet! I too have a 4 year old who is my last. And I too have to remind myself to treasure every moment, even when she is driving me crazy, because in another blink she's going to be a teenager.
    I hope your headache goes away soon!

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  2. My youngest is 17 and those blinks just come faster and faster as you go along.

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  3. Noooo, I need to never blink, ever again! (And, btw, that hair is absolutely fantastic.)

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