Partly Cloudy, 64°
Kids. They grow up so fast. One minute they’re so small you can fit ‘em in the palm of your hand, and the next minute you start blinking really, really slowly and you aren’t done until eighteen years later when they’re all grown up and out the door.
I remember when Lindsay was still my little girl. She used to ride around on my back and pretend I was a dinosaur. It’s funny how slowly you start blinking, how quickly things start to change. The first eighteen years of Lindsay’s life became a blur because I could hardly see anything.
It’s really hard to see anything when you’re mid-blink. You’re basically squinting. But that’s life, I guess.
The days turn into weeks turn into years, and suddenly, after eighteen years of blinking one time, your kid isn’t a kid anymore. She’s a grown woman. A college student. You hear her leave—your hearing has become really good after all these years of sensory deprivation—but you’ve been blinking for so long that when you open your eyes, the light is so intense that you’re incredibly disoriented.
Don’t make the same mistake I made. Don’t let life flash before your eyes because you blink really slowly and you can’t totally see everything that’s going on in your kid’s life. I couldn’t really see piano recitals, baseball games, high school graduation—all because I started closing my eyes one day and kept them closed until my little girl had gone off to college.
Michigan State, can you believe it? Just like her old man.
I wish I could build a time machine and go back to when Lindsay was still a baby. I would tell myself to try not to blink, or at least to blink at more manageable intervals. I could get all those years back to spend with her. I’d keep my eyes open so wide it wouldn’t feel like time was moving at an accelerated pace in the utter darkness of my eyelids.
But there’s no use dwelling on the past. I can only look to the future, especially now that my blink is over and I won’t need another one for at least ten years. I wasn’t fully present for the first half of Lindsay’s life, but you can bet I’m going to be there for the second half with fresh eyeballs.
I’m going to see her first college recital. I’m going to see her in a cap and gown. I’m going to see her walk down the aisle.
I’m going to finally see what she looks like.
