when i come home at night, in the early morning hours after the end of the shift, sometimes she rustles up out of bed and garbles out in the dark, “Dahdee!”

with each crawl, step, gargle and giggle, children mark, and they are the mark of, our mortality .

and i am willing to give myself over to this churning, to this growing, i will finally give myself over to time and let it have its way with me as long as time cares for this one, as long as time makes all the time in the world for her.