Gone Before We Know It
By Michelle (Graceful, Faith in the Everyday)
Feet padding soft, silhouette standing bedside while storm crashes. He crawls in, asleep in seconds, arm flung over head, hair frizzled flat, thighs pale-moon soft. I watch him sleep, drinking in that bit of baby still left.
He cries while we watch Free Willy, worried about the whale -- brow crinkled, tears brimming lashes, mouth agape in wailing oh.
“We forget he’s still just five,” says Brad as I shush and console, stroke sunset curls, murmuring reassurances that Willy will indeed prevail.
It seems I’ve forgotten all along, so bent was I on surviving the trials of mothering infants and toddlers. And now, on the eve of too-late, I grip tight, finally not wanting to let go.