Time flies zoom here and there, Tiny little creatures with iridescent wings, It is strange that they control so much. A pesky buzzing at the ear and an hour has passed. Irritating fluttering around your eyelids and years have passed. But where have they gone. I simply can’t remember. I know little one that you don’t see it yet, but your life is so quick.
Yesterday I brought you home, you were tiny, and fragile. Your small fingers were so stiff and bent. I loved your wrinkly elephant skin, and your crumbled squished eyes. Even though you didn’t do anything fantastic yet, all you could do was whimper. I would wrap you up tight, and rock you for hours. That was when the time seemed to roll along slower. I felt tiny wings flutter softly on my fingertips, barely aware of the buzzing.
After a few days it seems I cried into the batter as I made a special breakfast, pancakes and eggs. I missed the little broken sentences, and the hugs for no reason at all. This felt like a huge step. Kindergarten with all it’s fun and adventure. We picked out the most special outfit for the day. You wore yellow shoes, green socks with alligators, your favorite purple polka dot leggings, a ruffly pink tutu, and your best monkey shirt. You know the pink one with gum balls on it. You picked out every piece of that ensemble. As you walked away from me that first time I worried about you as you played with the other children, and if the teacher would understand you. You came home that day and played with your friends, and told me how wonderful everything was. You had the most fun ever, you painted pictures, and learned new songs, and your teacher even gave everyone a hug. There was that buzzing again, there the fly was zooming circles around my chest.
An hour later I saw you putting your dolls in the give-away box. You even put your favorite in, she was the beautiful one with the long red hair that hung in ringlets. Her dress was white and lacy. Then you were hanging new posters in your room. You were almost as tall as me then. It made me sad to see you putting those dolls away. In their place sat rows of thick books. Some books had bright covers with bold, adventurous pictures. Your favorites though were the simple ones, the ones with antique cloth covers and gold writing on the spine. I liked this time. You were so interesting to talk to, enormous thoughts were taking shape in your brain, and I loved to hear you exploring them. There was that buzzing again in my ears. It was louder now, and more irritating. I swatted it, but it wouldn’t leave me.
Minutes later you were graduating high school. You were taller than me then. You hugged me quickly and gave me one of your toothy smiles. I was so proud to hear them call your name, and as I watched you walk up that aisle I thought about when you were small. I could almost see you again as a baby. You got your diploma and we took so many pictures. When we got home we looked through all of your old albums, and I wondered how the time had flown so fast. Then those awful flies started flickering around my eyelids and I swatted them away.
Then I blinked and that was a mistake, because when I looked next you were wearing the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. I held your hands and hugged you, trying to remember when you were little. You were radiant, and I knew that this was a wonderful day. That is when you weren’t mine any more, you were his. That pesky fly had somehow stolen all of my time. I live with a swarm now, there are flies everywhere. They zoom around my head, and I see grandchildren. They are in my hair now, and the grandchildren are going to school. They buzz around my legs and I am having a hard time climbing up the stairs. Those pesky flies, one of these days I will get rid of them.