Don't Blink

It was yesterday, no, maybe it was the day before that.

I was holding him on my lap, thinking he was the cleanest looking baby I had ever seen.
I kept gazing at him, but then–I had to blink.

And suddenly he was old enough to feed himself.

This time, I thought, I won't blink. But of course my eyes started to burn and I snuck in a quick one.
And he was getting dressed on his own.

 

So it went.  I would keep an eye on him, but it would only take a blink or two and he had turned into a party animal.

Blink. He could drive.

My eye would twitch shut for a split second and there he would be– babysitting,

feeding the family,

defending the family,

and whirling the bride around the dance floor.

But then–then– I swear I only looked away for a moment.
And there he stands in front of his new dorm.
What did you ask? Is there is something in my eye?
Oh, I'm just blinking.