This is my life with a time traveler.
Today she's sixteen years old.
Five minutes ago she was ten.
Five minutes ago she was ten.
Her tiny hand grasps my finger.
She just got here 2 hours ago.
My wife holds my hand tightly in her’s.
She’s about arrive, any minute now.
16 years later, she’s on a bus to high school.
She’s holding my hand, looking in a pre-school classroom.
She’s 4 years old about to start something new.
She’s 16 and it’s just another day in school.
She’s 9 months old, lying on the floor, batting at colorful
toys.
She’s 7 years old and lost in a book.
She’s a teenager lost in the glow of her phone.
This is my life with a time traveler.
She’s 15 and grasping the car’s steering wheel in terror.
She’s an infant, frustrated she can’t roll over.
She doesn’t crash the car and she is relieved.
She rolls over and smiles at her accomplishment.
All this has happened, is happening, will happen.
She’s a baby asleep on my chest.
She’s a young woman exploring New York.
She’s a little girl on a swing.
She’s a kick in my wife’s stomach.
She’s on her way, she just got here, she’s already left.
She’s packing for college.
She’s excited for kindergarten.
She’s young for too short a time.
She’s in our hearts forever.
She is, she was, she will be all at once.
This is my life with a time traveler.
This is my life with my child.
This is my life with my child.
Happy birthday, Miranda!
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