You have looked the same to me since my first memory of you.
Lines etched onto your skin like the trails of a hike worth climbing to see the view.
Short white hair teased like a well manicured cloud.
Eyes the shade of a glacial lake that is so clear you can see to the very bottom.
Today is the first time I notice your hands tremble ever so slightly as you reach for the glass of water.
Today is the first time I notice you ask me to hand you your phone instead of getting up to grab it yourself.
Today is the first time I hear your breath more, a low rattle sound shaking itself out of your mouth.
Today is the first time I saw those piercing clear blue eyes fog instantly like the speed of a summer thunderstorm as you fainted in my arms, collapsing onto the carpet.
8 seconds feels like 800 years when you don’t answer me.
800 years feels like 8 seconds when you lay there looking as peaceful as a dreaming baby - wrinkles disappeared on your face and a crescent moon smile slacked across your cheeks.
An evening feels like a lifetime as it’s my turn to take care of you.
It’s my turn to carry you to bed. Pull your pajamas out of the dresser. Take off your socks and tell you to lift your arms as I drape the nightie over your head.
It’s my turn to fold your clothes and put them away. To tuck you into bed and share tales of memories of younger years with you.
To lie to you by saying I won’t worry about you.
My time may not be ticking so close to the final stroke as yours may be, but time has a way of tricking me into believing I’ll have more moments like this one.
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