But people are ageing with each second and the once long road is drawing to an end and I'm afraid of living without them. I keep thinking of the weddings and Christmases they'll miss and it makes me want to lock myself in a room with them and glean off all the precious wisdom, a vampire of memory.
The thing is, I don't know how to cope. I don't know how to lose people gracefully. Time doesn't freeze as well as soup or layers of lasagna and I don't know how to still the second hand. I'd spend my days with them, with all of them and let the laundry and dishes pile. Those things are trivial compared to a life, compared to the people who helped raise me and helped raise my parents, the people I don't know how to live without. They're all changing and whitening with age.
The toddler is finally sleeping and I stroke his hair so blonde it's almost white and count his breathing sounds. We're all growing older. We all must die. Even the oak tree whose limbs we tangled ourselves in and played at make believe with has started to decay, its fairy boat leaves littering the ground like a thousand shipwrecks. I wish they could take me to shore, to the place you will be after we've said goodbye.