I was blessed to experience an increasingly rare moment this evening (which was, in turn, preceded by an almost impossible moment earlier today).
While visiting at my grandmother’s this evening, little Kate began to fuss because she was tired. So Lynn stood and calmed her to sleep, and then, not long after, I took her for a while. The lovely little babe simply snuggled in and continued to nap:
Sadly, as happens with children I suppose, this is becoming less frequent than it once was. And, honestly, for me moments with a sleeping Kate on my chest have been far rarer and fewer between then was true with Will at the same age. I remember many evenings/nights with Will in my LaZBoy… and have only had a few with Kate…
What was even rarer about this event, is that it was preceded earlier in the day (at the tail end of a long lunch) with Will snuggling up and resting his head on my shoulder. He never does that anymore! (Granted, he was incredibly tired at the time… but, still!)…
The gentle rhythm of her breath;
her head burrowing, body limp, spirit trusting;
the beating of her tiny heart so near to my own.
His new-found independence suddenly quieted –
fear? fatigue? –
whispering in my ear, resting on my shoulder.
Is it that you’ve moved away –
discovering yourself, apart from me –
that I treasure having you so close?
Or are these moments of intimacy,
fleeting though they be,
the experience of some greater mystery?