Just a moment

We’ve stolen a moment. A moment away from the craziness that is our home.

I sit with her on my lap. Her head on my chest. My face buried in her hair, it smells like fresh air and dust, rocking us gently. She never was a small baby but her solid weight still surprises me. Her gentle snores. Her twitching fingers. The heat of her body warming me under the blanket.

As I fight my own urge to sleep I’m reminded again of how she got her nickname, in those first moments of holding her on my chest. Thinking, “She’s just like a little bug, all cuddled up on me.”

I know I should get up. Put her in her crib. Go deal with the dishes and the laundry. Ask Miss Mae how her morning went. But it’s rare that I get to be still with her. To feel her breathe with me. To remember how little time has really passed since she was just a squish of a baby.

Just a few minutes more. Then I’ll get up.

Really.

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A moment of peace.

 

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