I grab your childlike brush to get the job done myself, quicker. Because if it goes faster then I can have a second for me.

So I rush.

I rush putting your lived in, stretched out, favorite pajamas on. I brush your newly formed teeth, as I sing a two-note song, so you don’t fight me and it goes faster.

I rush.

I grab your mismatched socks that cover your tiny perfect toes so that they keep warm against the chill of the night.

I rush.

I get the fan that makes a hum that lulls you to comfort and safety.

I rush.

I lift the weight of your flimsy body. My own body creaks and cracks from the years of sacrifice. I cover yours to keep it protected.

I rush.

And then as I almost make my escape from your room to my one moment of freedom, I stop. I turn back and as I say goodnight…

It’s then I see you.

I see you with your blonde curls that brush the tips of your shoulders.

I see you with your sweet milk breath ready to dream your simple dreams.

I see you and the weight of your growing body as it tests the strength of the strings below.

And I realize, the fleeting time that is rapidly passing. Time that is not stopping. That it will not stop. That one day I will not rush because you won’t need me to.

To hold your desperate hand as you drift to sleep.

To kiss you on your innocent lips.

To be the only one that you need to live out your days.


Time is fleeting.

And I rush.

I rush time. The time that is slipping away from me to be with you.

I see you. I now am beginning to see time. And I will not rush.