“Just wait,” said Daddy. Things are going to get better, he promised. All this waiting is for my future anyway.
My little heart held on to his words, but my tiny brain pondered, “How long?”
I won’t be little forever.
Future will inevitably come and as I wait, time will go by so fast that my tiny feet that once took tiny steps will take bigger strides, farther and farther away from you. Soon you can no longer match my pace and catch up.
Even if I promise to wait, I cannot stop this frail, little body from growing bigger and bigger. Soon you’ll no longer be able to hold me in your strong arms or carry me over your broad and sturdy shoulders.
My tiny hands will become bigger too. Soon I’ll be reaching out, not to your hands, but to the rest of world to grab the greater promise it holds.
The world will change right in front of my eyes. It will change as fast as my perception of it changes. Soon, I will create my own vision of the world, and maybe defy its finite possibilities, but short of input and insights from you.
As I wait, I will create and fill my head with other memories (of) while I was waiting, only to have no memories created of and with you.
Soon, I will outgrow the childhood treats served only to cover up for your absence. I will grow up in spite of myself and might disobey here and there. I will have my own penchants for peculiar things and develop expertise out of them; things you will not get to witness with your own eyes.
How ironic is it that waiting is both for and against time. We wait for time, but also run out of it as we do so.
You have to understand I may be able to wait, but it cannot be forever. Eventually, I will grow up and we will run out of moments that can justify all the waiting I will have done.
So can you tell me, Daddy, how much more do I have to wait?