Soak up every moment,
every memory,
every drop.
Soak up the squeals
the laughter,
and yes,
even the tears.
Soak up nap time cuddles,
cute snaps on her onesie.
Remember her big smile
after a sweet, sound nap.
Remember those chunky, chubby,
roly-poly thighs,
that gummy, toothless grin.
Remember how she flaps her arms
aimlessly,
but with passion and excitement—
a little, flightless baby bird.
Please do not forget how she looks up
when you rock her.
Please do not forget her tiny fingers and toes
when she clings, when she sobs.
For one day she will talk,
forceful, full sentences
and you will wonder,
when did it change?
One day there will be no more afternoon naps:
just late nights out
and you will wonder,
will she follow curfew?
Yes, one day she will grumble, groggy
to let her sleep in Sunday.
and you will sigh,
why won’t she get up?
Yes, one day she will be wearing mini-skirts,
and you will sigh,
where did those onesies go?
Yes, one day she will stomp and yell fervently,
with heat and rage.
like a hissing viper.
and you will sigh,
where is her smile?
One day has become today.
She glares, rolls her eyes,
there are no more soft lullabies
as she pushes you away.
bitter sweet hugs
an apology
a witty remark—
these will be your
new memories.
Just
please
don’t blink.
Blink,
and it’s all over.
At least,
that’s what
they told me.
(formatted from an Iphone, may look different on a computer)