Almost Halfway

Dear Time,

Please slow down.

I'm eating blueberries from a Star Wars cereal bowl.

I reached for it because it was blue,
but then realized
it wasn't really for the blue that
I chose it,
but for the Star Wars.
Clone Troopers, to be exact.
That's important to know,
he says.

This bowl represents the things of childhood
that will all too quickly be replaced
by things of adolescence.
And then things of manhood.

Just yesterday my boy told me
that one of his slightly older friends
is "halfway to being a man."

"How old is someone who's halfway to being a man?"
I inquired, curious as to his thinking
on the matter of maturity.

"Ten," he said.
"Cuz when you're twenty,
you're a full-grown man."

I remember waiting ten years for this child,
ten long years
of praying, losing, surrendering,
praying harder, longing...

And then he came like an early jonquil
in February.
Eight years ago.

Do you mean that in less than two years,
this child will be
halfway to being a man?

No! Please say it isn't so.
Say it!
Say it, and just let me eat my blueberries!
One at a time.
Slowly.
From his Star Wars bowl.

And let me savor every bite,
every morsel of sweetness
called childhood.

As I do, as I pick up one after
another, examine it, and watch
it disappear after enjoying the
sublime taste,
I notice something.

Not just the bowl
and not just the fingers
are
blue.