I lie in the dark, with my son's sweaty head nestled on my shoulder, his round little fingers entwined in my hair while he sleeps, and my heart gently murmurs the only truth that I know. I love this boy. With all that there ever was, with every fibre of my being, every ripple in my soul, I love this boy. Nothing will ever be more pure, more right, than this moment. This heartbeat. This second in time, where his warm breath whispers softly on my neck as he dreams. Nothing.
I love this boy.
Down the hall, his sisters sleep, sprawled in their beds, one with the covers kicked back against the muggy August heat, the other with a quilt pulled up tight and tucked under her chin. My heart swells, threatens to burst, overwhelmed by this sudden surge of maternal emotion, unprepared perhaps for the pure strength of it at 2 am. From somewhere inside, a calm engulfs me, for in that instant my world is right again.
My life, with all its' twists and turns, it's free falling cliff drops and burned out bridges, the broken and the scarred, all of it...it slips into place. I am reminded again of my place, my purpose. They sleep, with the innocence that only children possess, innocence that I know the world will take from them soon enough, and even as I acknowledge this painful truth, my heart murmurs out its own promise. If I do nothing else in this life, I will do right by them. They will know warmth. They will feel joy. They will be safe, and they will peacefully dream, as children should.
And through it all, in the midst the realities of day to day life, I will love them.
Fiercely, unequivocally, without pause or rest. I will love them.
And they will know. This they will always know.
