After my beloved coffee machine is empty. After my most cherished mug is freshly washed and resting in the cupboard. After the lights are turned low and the house is finally hushed.
The stillness of this October evening is welcome as I try to unwind from another bustling day. But I just can’t keep myself from sneaking back in to peek at my little angels nestled warmly in their beds.
One with a fever (so sorry you caught mommy’s cold, but its ever-so-hard to not kiss your sweet little face), one with an injury (wish I could have been there to rescue your little finger from that heavy door), and one just oh-so-snuggly cute (can hardly tear myself away from you).
My little peanut, how is it that you are seven already? Wasn’t it just yesterday that you asked me to read to you about “Christmas-ter” Robin and his little Pooh bear? And didn’t we just dance the night away to “John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt” about a thousand times?
My sweet ladybug, how can it be that you are in kindergarten this year? Are you sure you have outgrown your trademark red glitter shoes?
My loveable bear, is it true that you can now mostly button your own sweater? And say your ABCs? And count to ten?
Can. It. Be?
I love you forever and always.
“When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there’s no getting around it. But when the baby is born, there is joy in the birth. This new life in the world wipes out memory of the pain.”
John 16.21 (The Message)