Before I Blink Again

 “Before I Blink Again”

She’s running through the same kind of grass
I once ran through barefoot —
back when summers felt endless
and laughter came easy.

It’s strange,
how life folds itself like a well-loved quilt.
How I see my younger self
in the curve of her smile,
the tilt of her head,
the way she forgets the world exists
when joy calls her name.

They tell you time flies,
but they never tell you
how it circles back—
how one day, you’ll watch it begin again
through someone else’s tiny hands.

And suddenly you remember everything:
the smell of rain on hot pavement,
the sound of screen doors slamming,
the thrill of catching fireflies
just before dark.

Now, I watch her run—
free and fearless—
and I whisper a quiet prayer
that the world will stay gentle for her.

Because one day, she’ll blink,
and these wide-open days
will turn into memories, too.

And maybe, years from now,
she’ll see her own grandchild
running through the sunlight
and think of me—
how I once stood right here,
watching her,
before I blinked again.