I Blinked, and There He Was By Kim Valzania

I blinked, and there he was –

a full grown man.

Bearded now, smiling,

with a beer in hand.

I must close my eyes to remember –

Him, surrounded by books, and toys

building forts,

on little knees,

making noise.

Him, in those blue footed PJ’s,

with the little collar snap,

a clean little boy,

ready for bed.

I close my eyes to remember.

A baseball mitt, a basketball,

running, wrestling,

riding a bike

school projects

games far away

coming home dirty, tired

from the day

and then

I blinked, and there he was –

again,

almost-grown, but not quite.

I close  my eyes to remember now,

some awkward years

a bruised ego

his trouble sleeping

his uncertainty

I blinked and there he was –

confident,

on the mound,

painting the corners,

striking them out,

looking.

I blinked

and he was driving

swiftly

away away

to some party

somewhere –

I remember

when he lied

not always,

but sometimes

the way they have to

to make it bearable for us.

And he was figuring things out,

and making his way

I close my eyes to remember

him there

dressed in green, with tasseled cap

shaking hands, smiling

walking across –

across to the other side of things –

endings, beginnings,

and I remember that moment so clearly

Not quite a man yet

But getting there.

And then I blinked again

and there she was,

this beautiful, worthy, smart girl

who stole his heart

the way a girl like that one can

with the toss of her hair

and the kindness in her eyes

and the very depth of her

but then

he stole her heart too

And I blinked

and there he was,

with all the friends he always knew

in a line,

together,

all those little boys,

big now,

brothers forever.

I need to remember

this moment,

and I will,

this one –

a full-grown man now,

but a young one still,

bearded,

strumming a guitar,

and lighting a fire,

and laughing

with

a beer in hand.