Feel the time

Many times over the course of my life my mother has referenced (and cried while listening to) Judy Collins' rendition of "Who Knows Where the Time Goes."

It is a poignant song, and when set to Judy Collins' angelic voice, it perfectly conveys its wistful message. As I've gotten older, I've found the jukebox of my mind selecting that song more often, and parenthood has put it into a top 25 of sorts.

Both boys are asleep right now, and it is Judy's voice I hear in my mind as I wipe the crumbs off the counter, sweep the kitchen floor, fold the laundry and tidy the house. It seems like just hours ago I was preparing for my parents' arrival and the arrival of our little Silas, who is now just shy of three weeks old.

Now, four weeks later, everyone has gone back home. Time marches forward. I wish to pause it, to feel Silas' tiny body all wet and warm in my arms for the first time. To relive that moment over and over and over, where there is only hope. Before time settles upon us with its heavy, bittersweet presence. Before.

* * *

Across the morning sky,
All the bird are leaving,
Ah, how can they know it's time to go?
Before the winter fire,
We'll still be dreaming.
I do not count the time

Who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

Sad deserted shore,
Your fickle friends are leaving,
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go,
But I will still be here,
I have no thought of leaving.
I do not count the time

Who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I'm not alone,
When my love is near me,
And I know,it will be so,till it's time to go,
So come the storms of winter ,
and then the birds of spring again.
I do not feel the time

Who knows how my love grows?
Who knows where the time goes?