How often do you sneak into your child’s room and watch them sleep? Really stand awhile, over their bed, and take it all in?
I’ve done it in the past, but back when Li’l Bee was mere months old, and mostly just to check if she was still breathing.
But tonight, for some reason while brushing my teeth, I was overcome with an urge to see her.
To look at her. To just… be next to her.
So, I crept to her door. Then, as quietly as I could, turned the squeaky handle and slipped into the dark of her room.
It was warm and lovely, and she was so peaceful.
She was laying on her back, flanked by her two favourite dolls, her fingers curled into her palms.
I didn’t want to wake her – I was sure I wouldn’t. But still, I hovered by the door, leaning to leave every few seconds, just in case….
The shushing of the white noise machine calmed me with each breath, as I watched her little chest rise and fall with each one she took.
So, I stayed. Just a bit longer. I sunk into those few sacred moments in the quiet, in the dark. In my daughter’s room.
And, in the words of Dylan Thomas, “I said some words to the close and holy darkness,” and then, I let her sleep.