Friday, December 18, 2015

Careful, Purposeful

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, my son will sit up and begin carefully re-arranging his pillow, blanket, and surrounding toys. He's sound asleep when he does this, but every movement is careful, purposeful, an unconscious feng-shui to ends neither he nor I will ever know.

I relish the times I'm awake for these performances. His bed lies cross-wise at the foot of mine, like a stage, and I watch with a father's tense concern, waiting for any sign that his odd, sleeping grace will desert him, that I'll be required to prevent him coming to harm on the edge of the bed or the floor.

I feel, in those moments, like there's nothing beyond these four walls, the limited reach of the nightlight, and this strange, secret show. I feel like everything is so okay that my heart might just stop.

posted at 11:39 PM ---------------------------------