For 42 weeks she nested in the safe darkness of my womb but on her third day in the scary sunshine world time stopped and spun forward all at once. He walked upstairs to find her swaddled in my arms while I weeping had been stripped to my core. She safely sleeping, I nervously nearing a breakdown.
Time stopped while my life raced forward. I could see her clearly—she was walking, going to her first day of kindergarten, 3rd grade, junior high, and then walking in her cap and gown, all the while we stood still, unchanged except for some extra pounds and a few gray hairs. Her life had just begun, but I could see my life with her would end. I had already lost her to the future.
In 42 weeks she grew from a dot of a zygote to the writhing crying waking creature in my arms, exponentially growing in size and form, never stopping except on that 3rd day of the world outside my womb.
After hearing his laughter at this time stopping—time spinning nonsense the spell was broken for nearly 15 years. During those 15 years time slowed to a crawl some days while some others zoomed at light speed but it never stopped and spun simultaneously until last month. It happened again as the girl morphed from ponytails and blue jeans into bouncy curls and flowery dress. Her footsteps echoed the steps she’ll take in just 4 more years—time stopped and spun all at once but this time there were no tears to strip me to my core. This time, the clock has not ticked and tocked, it has continued to stop and spin all at once.
August 18 is when the clock is slated to start again, that is the day when days and nights will merge into one, speeding the next 4 years into one short day in which her high heels will click and clack down the aisle and into the open and adventurous world that doesn’t move nearly fast enough for her.