16

There is warm infusion of euphoria
which softens the sensibilities of a new parent
You marvel at the little baked potato bound tightly in your arms
no limbs flailing
no legs running
no mouth spouting off words to counter back on your requests
Only a perfect full face
as close and  familiar as the back of your hand
as distant as the face of the man in the moon
Time
Numbers
Do not matter
The grandparents, aunties and uncles descend upon the baby
and exhale sentiments which drift carelessly around your head
'Just you wait until he's a teenager'
'Enjoy this time. It goes by so fast'
You caress the words off of his forehead
There is so much space between this moment
and
the next milestone
So
Much
Time
You carry with you an idea of what certain numbers will mean
within the context of this new life
At one there will be walking and words
At two there will be tremendous growth, potty training and tantrums
At five there will be kindergarten and the first of many moments of letting go
At ten there will be middle school and a muddle of hormones and new independence
At 16 there will be wheels
But 16 is     so                    far                   away
In those first wee moments
time has stopped
You have a handle on it all
You will never blink
and open your eyes to find
a man standing before you
as close and familiar as the back of your hand
as distant as the face of the man in the moon
Yet there he is
and he's saying something about the car keys