A sliver of light from the other room shined on her face as I rocked her. She was playing with my necklace and I could see her features have changed. My daughter is growing from a baby into a small child. A child with great curiousity and determination. Her brow occasionally furrows, lips purse, and mouth contorts into a new shape everyday. Her nose though, still holds that perfect little silhouette I saw from an early sonogram picture. The one that so clearly outlined what I knew would be a beautiful, delicate little face.
Throughout my day time seems to move so slow. I watch the clock tick the minutes by at my desk. Yet miles away, in my own home, hours are quickly passing. My daughter masters a new word, a new dance, or surprises my husband with some antic he will show me video of later on. I’ve come to terms with the fact that moments are passing me by while I’m not with her. She is progressing at what seems like the speed of light while my adult life slowly creeps from one new thing to the next. She is fast, new, now. I am slow, old, later.
Last week I missed my own deadline of posting my blog on a Monday. I found myself struggling to find time, mental energy, and a story to be told. Until I saw my daughter’s inquisitive eyes and felt so humbled by my love that has grown for her and the love between us. I was so aware in that moment of the time. The time whizzing by and the fact that other things prevented me from making the time I have carved out to devote to this. This project that will be unlike my daughter’s childlike whimsy: timeless.
Right now my readers and I experience these stories every week. My daughter will not remember a thing I’ve written and only read this as an adult. I don’t know what she will be like then. What her beautiful little face will look like. I just know that by the time she reads the first word I’ll have blinked and she will have become a young woman. I will reread this particular piece and know from this moment on she kept changing.
Tomorrow she will wake up, want her bottle immediately and a cuddle in Mommy and Daddy’s bed. I will spend a few minutes lingering under the sheets, caressing her hair as she watches Sesame Street. I'll try to preserve every giggle, sound, and smile before I hop into the shower and start my day. On the train, I'll write a few thoughts for next week's blog and thumb through the number of pictures on my phone I'll have taken that morning. Just like the days before there will be different shots of her snuggling in bed, running around the living room, and eating breakfast. Just like every morning I'll see a little difference in each photo and wonder where the time has gone.