September 1, 2011

Squeaky Boards

Every night, every single night, long after sleep has carried you away to sweet baby dreams I sneak into your room. My steps have been choreographed over the days and weeks and months. I know exactly where to sway, when to dip, exactly where my steps need to land so that I don't hit a squeaky board and wake you.

Even in the hall outside your door I need to be careful...doors pushed closed pop if I walk to close, and those sneaky, squeaky boards lurk out there too. Every night I navigate my path and pause for just a second at your door to take a long breath. I don't want to take the chance that my breathing will disturb you.

Sometimes a quick peak is all I need. I just want to check on you. I want to know if your knees are tucked under you pushing your little bumper into the air, or if you are curled on your side with your feet crossed just so. I'm curious who has won your attention for the it Piggy or maybe Puppy or perhaps Dolly?

Other times I could  linger endlessly. I could drink in every single detail. I memorize the way your pjs look, the way your hair has gone all wild in the night. I stare and file away all the little things that make you who you are today...who you are in this exact moment. I stay beyond the breath I took at the door. I'm forced to take another. And for the briefest of moments I am alive solely with the scent of you.

Most nights I have to force myself to leave. Force myself to be away from you until you wake again. But every single night I sneak in to your room. Every single night I polish my routine, getting more graceful with each practiced step. Every single night I must see you one more time, just once more, before I can give up the day.