Thursday, April 19, 2012

Glasses In The Dark

It's that time of night where there is nothing but sleep. A time of peace, rest, and recharging. Deep sleep is startled by a brief, but frightened shriek. I fumble for my glasses, a false sense of sight in the darkness, and stumble toward the sound that woke me.

I feel around the little ball curled up under the covers, hiding from whatever fear the darkness had caused. Lifting up the covers, I crawl in. In such sleepiness, there is no adequate articulation of the cause of the shriek, but it's real. I take off my glasses and snuggle close. I can't see her face, but I feel the relief. The comfort. The immediate dissolving of panic that had been so real moments before.

The power granted to me to have such an affect on such intense emotion is overwhelming. Moments pass and, in the blackness, I reach for my glasses and find my way to my own bed. As I close my eyes, there is immediate and intense wailing from a different room. It too calls of fear. I reach for my glasses once again, eager to bring calm.

I hear my own soothing words as I bring the small bundle close to my chest. Instant rest. The tiny body melts into mine as if it was never awoken from slumber. I feel every breath and, although I can't see her sweet features, even with my glasses, I imagine that tiny nose and those sweet lips and smile to myself.

The eyes of my heart are wide open.

Gently placing her in her bed, I head back to mine, setting my glasses on their spot beside my bed. Closing my eyes, I feel rustling beside me and an arm that envelops me. It brings me a new peace. Rest, but not sleep. The beauty of the secret moments just experienced reach my core.

The gift I have been given. The privilege with which I have been blessed. The honor that has been bestowed upon me.

I am a mom.

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