still and quiet...
Sunday, May 29, 2011
it was just a small glass bottle of advil for infants,
cut open from a pack of three that i added to my cart at costco.
and later in my kitchen as the day was slowing down, i just happened to glance at the age and weight limits when my breath caught in my throat and i sat down on the floor.
he is 23 months; this blond haired, brown eyed boy of my own.
less than one month away from a cake aflame with 2 candles and babyhood officially left behind.
and i want the sun to stop moving and the moon to stand still for there is a war raging and it is deep in the heart of a mama leaving an all consuming phase of life behind.
how is it that the seemingly never-ending days end far too quickly but the scent of a newborn, my newborn, stays embedded deep?
that arms that cradled and rocked and nursed, ache with phantom pains as the one they sheltered runs and laughs with abandon in another direction.
it still stands in his room - this crib with four sides that seem rather pointless now.
the one that he vaults himself over to freedom after he is tucked in and kissed soundly and prayed over.
because it is only the floor where his cars can speed speedily, the floor that he can sprawl out on.
and the floor that he falls asleep on, curled up behind the door.
and i gather him up, this small boy that is mine.
and i hold him in my arms and cradle him close, letting the weight of him ease the ache in my arms that have gathered 3 small ones close these last 5 years.
and i breathe in the scent of his sleepy head, slow my breathing down to match his own.
and i savor the still and quiet moments that have been given to me.
in the quiet, in the dark, the sun stops moving and the moon holds still...
and for a brief moment, we are both cradled in His arms.