Passing Time

Some days I want time to stand still.  No seasons, no celebrations marking movement.  No more class pictures or progress reports.

I did not exactly wish away the days of diapers and bottles.  And when I see mothers struggling to contain a bundle of two year old energy while navigating a heavy door with her stroller, I do not want to go back.

But more and more, I wish I could stop the carousel.
The days collapse into a kaleidoscope of color,
the patterns shifting too fast.

I see the women they will become more often now than I see the babies that they were.
And I wonder and worry what choices will face them.
Will they have the freedom to fly free?  And what will their freedom cost them, and me?

Sometimes the world they face seems daunting and bent on destruction,
lacking in care and kindness, cooperation and love.
They will need to be tough and tender, fierce and fearless.

And to learn these lessons, they will have to fail.
Yet my instincts leap to protection and success.
And I waver, unsure of myself more often than I like.

And the hands continue to turn, the years continue to mount.
Time creeps and flies, unravelling around the edges of our lives.
And today, I wish for the power to stop the sun for just a little while.