Hush-a-bye, little me, rocking in lost memory. All those tiny final days that slipped from me in quiet ways. The last time Mom tied my shoelace, double-looped it neat and tight— I didn’t know she’d stop one day and say, “You’ve got it, you’ll be alright.” I ran outside, the knot held fast… never knowing that was last. The last time Dad carried me from the car when I “pretend-slept”— I didn’t know he’d lift me once more, then say I’d grown too big to heft. He tucked me in, switched off the light— that was the final sleepy night. The last time I said goodbye to Grandma on her faded porch— I didn’t know the kiss she gave would be the last to warm my forehead. Her sweater smelled like lavender— I wish I’d held on longer. The last time Grandpa let me steer the wheel of his old beaten truck— I didn’t know the road would end before I felt grown-up enough. He laughed, “Hold tight!”—the world felt wide… Now that seat stays empty on his side. The last time I had story time cross-legged on that classroom rug— I didn’t know I’d never sit that close to childhood’s gentle hug. My teacher’s voice turned to a hum— the end of “Once upon a time” had come. The last time I painted with crayons, pressing colors into thick white sheets— I didn’t know that childish art would fade beneath adult defeats. I left a rainbow on the page… and stepped into another age. The last time I ran the school halls with untied shoes and reckless speed— I didn’t know the bell that rang was also ringing out my need for scraped-up knees and carefree laughs— I never thought it’d be my last. The last time I sung “Happy Birthday” with classmates crowded far too near— I didn’t know the candles blown would mark the end of one more year where no one whispered “grow up soon.”