You rest your head on my chest, one hand twisting my hair ’round and ’round your finger and the other holding onto your best stuffed friend. As I sing your lullaby, your eyelids and your body get heavier and heavier. I rest my cheek on your head, bury my nose in your hair, and selfishly wish I could stop the passage of time, stop you from growing up and away from me, stop you from hurtling toward independence.
I listen to the sound of your breathing, smile at your snoring, marvel at your peacefulness. I know I should put you in your bed, but I just want to savor the moment…just a bit longer.
You turn, and your forehead rests against my chin now. You’ve let go of your stuffed friend, but still hold tightly to my hair. I stroke your cheek, nuzzle your hair, pat your back. Your head moves up and down, up and down, with the motion of the rocking chair.
I know too soon you’ll not need Mama to rock you and sing to you, so I’m holding onto this moment with all my might.