in the silence when you lay next to me under the fluff of my comforter, i lull you to sleep with soft touches on your face, spreading up into the silk of your hair. your eyes close aware of the safeness we have between us, only to open on occasion to look at me and remember where you are: here without friction.
because there has been friction and fight. a sandpaper feel between the two of us from time to time. and i wish it away and tell time to take me back to the moments when it was cuddles and gentle touches. words spoken in your high-pitched sing-songy toddler voice. but those are just the toughies that i wish weren't between us now. all else is pretty amazing with your five year old self.
so we don't speak, but we stay close. me touching the warmth on your face with the delicate fingerprints of my aged hands. and i think...
what wandered in my mom's mind when she was still and tickled my back or played with my golden hair?
what will school be like for us together, doing this for the first time? will we talk or will the tension mount?
how can i be close with you again or what can i do to be let into your world a bit more?
why did i use such sharpness in my voice and used the words that would strike a blow?
do you feel distant from me? do i listen well enough?
you are so beautiful and i see sometimes what you might look like in the coming years, whilst seeing some of the baby i knew.
i held this tiny human in my arms once and she was so small then.
where do i need to let go and make space for with you growing up?
where do my actions speak loudly enough for you to take notice? is that good?
what are you thinking about and starting to dream of?
my shield of protection is thinner over you...how can yours grow stronger?
when did my mom have these moments with me?
the quiet is so welcome with us when it means lovely peace floats around us and in us. i feel the mysterious connection deepening, but knowing it will be interrupted with jabs of turmoil and ordinary independence and pushing away from me the next day after our sleeps. for now it assures me that we are okay. we are together. and that's why i write about this moment.