Monday, January 05, 2015

How big and still so small

Oh Lord, don't let me forget.

Don't let me forget the way he giggled, always giggles, all through his bath.

How he wiggled with smiles during his after-bath kisses, the horse one and the nose one and the fish one and especially the doggie one.

How he chose his books and sat so quietly for a page or two, my voice quickening to help him make it through to the end.  It's hard to make it to the end for him, always it is hard.

How he kissed his sister and she hugged him close with that little voice lilting, "Goodnight, Wilder, sweet boy" or "handsome" because already I am forgetting but always it is the same.

How we stood and clicked the light and turned to stand beside the crib, facing our silhouette on the wall.  How he tucked against me like he always does, his little monkey legs bending and lifting at the knees around me, and immediately I sway and I sing and little sigh heaves as his arms fold in and his forehead thunks my left shoulder before I even get to "lift my voice to worship You."

Oh, my soul, rejoice.

How his warmth and his heaviness covered me and it's hard to breathe for more than just because he is so heavy but also because he is still small, thank You God, still so small, to fit there.  To be safe on my heart and his breathing slowing just listening, listening to my voice and our breath and the hum of the humidifier and the tick of the heater and the shivers of wind outside where it is so cold but inside it is warm for more than one reason.

How I felt his breathing on my shoulder, his cheek now on my shoulder, and maybe he is already sleeping because he would have been falling asleep watching the door for her and there is a crick in my back below my shoulders and tired is shooting into my heels but still our silhouette sways on the wall with the warmth of the home light behind us.

How little footsteps stole in from behind and a soft little kiss lands on his right foot beneath my left arm which is falling asleep but he only stirs because he already has.  So still we rock and I breathe him in, breathe in the layers of the soft fleecy jammies that smell a little like maybe they waited too long to get into the dryer because they always do and his skin that smells like "sugar frost" pink glitter soap from Christmas and I want to laugh but also cry because the fake sweet is nothing, nothing like the real sweet of his own skin.

How I turned my lips to the cotton fleece of his "little fuzzy bear hairs" still faintly damp and kissed it back and forth and breathed in what really smelled like him, not just our world on him, but like really just soft and sweet him.

How he stirred and turned his head and suddenly that cool, soft cheek, always so cool and so soft, was against my lips and how I begged, begged these days to never end but someday they have to so I begged that I would please, please remember.

How I prayed over him and thanked for him and tried to remember that he isn't really mine and I laid him in his crib that is so low I can barely reach and he was peace and sweet personified and wrapped him in loveys and love.

How I turned and planned to write, to write it all before I lost it, and there she was, her purple jammies too big and her untoweled hair curling and sticking to her neck and Mama will you paint my nails with the Santa polish and yes, but oh, how big and still so small.

How big and still so small.

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