Day 185 of 2026
“The Threshold Stays Closed”
It's been said that you will spend the majority of your life knowing your children as adults.
But for a brief moment, a blink, really, you get to know them as children.
And in that blink, you carry them on your hip.
You hear their tiny voice call your name.
You sip off their cold while they squirm and giggle.
You watch them sleep.
Stuffed toy tucked under one arm.
You are their whole world.
And they are the windows of it.
At that moment, it's gone.
They grow tall.
Their questions get deeper.
Their hands start slipping out of yours a little more each day.
And then one day you realise you're no longer packing lunchboxes and stepping over toys.
You're sitting across from them at the table hearing about heartbreaks and job interviews.
Still your child, but no longer the small soul who once needed you to kiss every bump and scare away the monsters.
So if you're tired, worn tired from the noise, the mess, the constant, know this.
You're living in the blink.
The sacred precious blink.
Don't rush it.
Hold the cuddle.
Say yes to one more bedtime story.
Let them be small for as long as.
Because the world will have them soon enough.
But right now, right now, they are yours.
What a beautiful fleeting gift that is.
song· 128s
generating...
Things that did not happen today:
The curtains opened.
The mug was refilled.
Max lifted his head.
The phone was answered.
The heating was turned up.
The outside world was consulted.
The cushions were rearranged.
The hour was noted.
A reason was found.