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There is a picture circulating

of a little girl in an Iraqi orphanage,

who misses her mother,

so she drew a chalk outline of her mom,

curled up within the lines

and fell asleep

inside her mother.

This stopped me cold.

I don’t ever want to be too tired

to tell a bedtime story again,

for as long as I live,

for as long as my sons want

kisses and songs and stories.

These moments of snuggle and calm

are too precious, too much of a structure

to build upon – a life of knowing

where we stand – Right here

within the beat of our mama’s heart.

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