Entries in bubbles (1)


an hour

Kids. Creatures of habit.

Every night after his bedtime story, June29 spends the next few minutes convincing whoever did the reading to lay with him until he falls asleep. When it's my turn, I don't normally give in. But on this particular night I did (thanks to dead tiredness and a soft pillow) and it turned out to be an hour I'll remember for a long time.

As we lie in bed - him tossing and turning and me dozing in and out - all I could think was, "GO TO SLEEP!" I'm sure I said it outloud a bazillion times.

Suddenly, quick like a ninja, he spun around and clamped onto me, his boney limbs deftly locking my joints as his head nuzzled into the crook of my neck. How is he so good at this!? I could feel his smile as it tickled my ear and the vibration of his giggles ringing in my head. Triumphantly he sang, "I'm never going to let you go! You're going to stay with me forever!"

My impulse was to push him off, reprimand him for goofing off, and go off on how he needed to sleep.

Instead, I melted.

In that moment, a singular thought snuck in: This will one day come to pass - this longing to always be with me; this desperate need for my protection; this pure joy that eminates from his tiny core and shakes me up so deeply it kills.

So I stayed as he clung onto me, snuggled and then spooned with me, all the while keeping me warm. When he finally fell asleep, I left and recounted his ninja moves to November3. "Yep, he does that to me every night," he responded. "It's the best feeling in the world." This, their nightly ritual and I was let in on the secret.

Like bubbles, these moments are so fleeting, so fragile and so transparent. In the blink of an eye, they vanish and in their wake, a longing for more.

A photo may be able to freeze it, but that feeling I won't get back.