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.