Four Months of Nocturnal Magic
Updated: Mar 21
This too shall pass means all of it.
Four months deep, he is the calmest and most eager of my five— there are many things he seems to know. But still, so much he must remember.
And I remember to move him now, or forever he will stay. Right here. Like this. Each night. With me. But there’s no where else I’d rather be than wrapped up here: our cocoon of nocturnal magic. 🌙✨
For his hand, it’s on my heart. His fingers, they drum my skin. He sighs a tiny breath, my bonus blessing at the end of an era. Maternal love, she knows no bounds.
It’s different now, because he wasn’t supposed to be. Yet he is. A new beginning sown of seeds I didn’t dare to dream. So I’m still. I’m silent. I listen to hear the angels when he laughs. Each baby, a gift from God in time and ways we cannot fathom.
I don’t question that he is mine and I am his. Gratitude holds space where I inhale another moment of earthen infant musk. It’s moss. It’s hope. It’s a spring we savor not after, but because of a long harsh winter.
For all the ended beginnings. For all that’s yet to come but goes so fast, I’ll put him down another day.