It Goes So Fast
A poem about childhood
An older person will see your child’s squishy cheeks and little giggles and tell you, enjoy it because it goes so fast / And at that moment, you think that there’s nothing fast about it / that your days are filled with slow walks / and endless snacks / and crafts that mess up the kitchen and your walls / You think about pediatrician visits / and library trips / and naptime battles / and the way getting out of the house seems like an Olympic sport / And so you smile at the older person and tell them that you will enjoy it / and think to yourself that they are so far removed from what it meant to be in the trenches with little ones that they clearly don’t understand how nothing is fast when you’re dealing with a toddler or a baby / But then your child goes to sleep at night / and you put laundry away / and you see that their little shirts are getting bigger / and the shoe that you just tripped over no longer fits their tiny feet / and your breath catches a bit / And so you close your eyes to commit this to memory / because they are growing at a pace that will not keep up with your heartstrings / And even though you know it’s supposed to happen / and you can see the beauty in it all / you realize that the older person was right / it goes so very, very fast.
If you enjoyed this piece, check out my poetry book, “the poetry of things: poems for the tough & tender moments of life” — now available here at Bottlecap Press.
