Tuesday 7 February 2017

Slipping through my fingers..

It seems only yesterday that little N was four months old and I wrote her a poem. Now, with her fourth birthday barely a week away, I sometimes wonder if she was ever that small, and if yes, then when did she really grow up. For all the things she says, all the ways in which she shows her love for me, A and her pet brother, S; I find it hard to believe that I was actually capable of bringing something so beautiful to this world. While words can never truly capture the churn of emotions inside a mother's heart, even now as I pull her close, I already dread the day she will grow wings and fly out of my nest. And when I saw this ABBA song in a movie early today, it was as if someone had channeled my feelings into words..

"Slipping Through My Fingers"

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning 
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile 
I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness 
And I have to sit down for a while 
The feeling that I'm losing her forever 
And without really entering her world 
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter 
That funny little girl 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 
I try to capture every minute 
The feeling in it 
Slipping through my fingers all the time 
Do I really see what's in her mind 
Each time I think I'm close to knowing 
She keeps on growing 
Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table 
Barely awake I let precious time go by 
Then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling 
And a sense of guilt I can't deny 
What happened to the wonderful adventures 
The places I had planned for us to go 
Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't 
And why, I just don't know 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 
I try to capture every minute 
The feeling in it 
Slipping through my fingers all the time 
Do I really see what's in her mind 
Each time I think I'm close to knowing 
She keeps on growing 
Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture 
And save it from the funny tricks of time 

Slipping through my fingers all the time 

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning 
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile


Its hard to say goodbye to my doll everyday. Irrespective of how good or bad my day might have been, her little stories make it all worthwhile. And for the rest of my life, I will remember this.