To Little Dub and Little Dubyette:

I don’t know how to explain the concept of time to either one of you. I say things like “Inna second” or “Inna minute” and a moment later you’re asking me again. Time is just a word to you, like juice or pop-pop-popcorn. Let me just say time is fleeting. Time flies as it were. Tempus fugit. And that ends our Latin exercise for the day. Heh, Latin exercise. That actually brings me to my point rather nicely.

How do we find ourselves less than a month away from the two of you starting school? It’s not supposed to be here yet. I’m not ready. I mean…you’re too young for school, aren’t you? When did we trade in the pacis and sippy cups for buses and uniforms?

Little Dub: wasn’t it just Monday that I was holding you while you were connected to leads and tubes in the NICU? Didn’t I only days ago gently shake you when you forgot to breathe? Spend too much time on Rte. 4 – from one hospital to another – visiting your mommy and then you? Yes, it was only days ago. It has to be.

Little Dubyette: I’ll swear it was only yesterday that I brought Little Dub to the hospital to meet you for the first time. You were lying in your mother’s arms, swaddled from head-to-toe in the blue and pink-striped hospital blanket. That can’t be you in the plaid jumper now. It has to only be yesterday.

Because if it’s not….

They say as you get older time gets away from you faster and faster. Minutes blur into hours. Hours into days. Days become years. Until the next thing you know you’ve gone from carefree single guy or gal to grandparent in the blink of an eye. To the two of you, as children, time is inconsequential; it has no meaning. Days last forever and seconds seem interminable. Every day is a summer day. You’re too young to understand the full weight of carpe diem. Hopefully when you’re older you will. Live life like every day is a summer day. Grab time by the bal…well, maybe that’s not the most appropriate phrasing. Just hold onto it and don’t let it go. Because it will fly away.

And you can’t get it back.

Caveat emptor: Tempus fugit.

Love, Daddy

p.s.: I promise, no more Latin.

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