Its amazing how time distorts perspective. Emotions change as time transpires. Take the diaper. At first the excitement and anticipation we experience when we first wrap the silky smooth skin of our newborn in the first of an infinite pile of disposable gem catchers. Because after all, our treasures can only create gems.
They're so cute and soft and loving. So defenseless and dependent, a bundle of dreams, hopes and unfulfilled expectations. We are at their beck and call, all day, every day. Their cries are angelical, their odors pungent but heavenly, their regurgitations a long awaited sign that we have patted them long enough to resume their feeding. How effortless the otherwise daunting tasks, always finding eagerly awaiting family and friends who trample over themselves in the hopes we would allow them the honor of changing their full diaper. How we cling to that fleeting period when our heirs are hopelessly clinging to our every blink.
We are sadly joyful when they stumble away from their potty and graduate sigma cum-laude.
Fast forward eighty years. All accomplishments behind us. Our future is measured not in years but by the sweeping second hand.
How ironic. The diaper is the same but different. No one standing in line to change it. No longer are the contents cute. We will no longer hear rushing footsteps eager to clean the soiled wrapper. The skin no longer soft. The rashes no longer soothed. The cries no longer heard. The anticipation is no longer for the first step but for the last breath.
The diaper full cycle.