Monday, May 11, 2009

Sometimes the Night Haunts Me

Not because of fear..not because of regret. But when all the world is quiet (and even in the big city, way up here in our high rise can get pretty quiet, especially with the AC running which blocks out a lot of noise), I begin thinking. The darkness doesn't scare, it placates. The solitude isn't lonely, it's peaceful. But the night haunts me because of the deep thinking that it facilitates for me. I begin to think about my family and my goals. I think about Corinne, and how she lived more in her short 18 years than most people do in a lifetime. I think about my mother, who barely got through Mother's Day today after just having lost a child. I think about each of my five babies, ways I can be a better mommy to them, and how I'm so very thankful for the privilege of being their mommy (I know I say this ALL the time, but I truly am so blessed!). I stare at my husband sleeping, not in a creepy way, but in a manner of admiration. (The funny thing is, even if I'm quiet as a mouse, he senses when I'm awake and will then wake up, too. I'm actually surprised he hasn't come into the library looking for me yet.) At any rate, while in college I found it difficult to stay awake at all hours to study, nighttime is now a time of deep thinking and reflection for me now that I'm in my late twenties. It's a time that I enjoy mulling over ideas and contemplating "the big questions", so we'll see if anything comes of it. I'll be sure to record any flashes of brilliance I may have (ha!).

But since it is Mother's Day, or I suppose that was technically yesterday, I'll close with an adorable little poem that I came across:
I Like You Best
Elizabeth Laing Thompson
After dark, I like you best:
Day fades to gray,
Moonlit fingers paint stripes across your bed, your face.
I tiptoe in and rest a palm across your back
to feel you breathe--
up and down, the rise and fall;
I lean in close to breathe the sweet clean milk of you,
to feel the warmth of life
flowing in and out, in and out as you dream.
You sigh.
And I smile--serene, content--
This is my sunset.
When you're asleep, I like you best.
At day's first light, I like you best:
Dawn brings a gentle scratching,
the swish-swish of chubby elbows and knees and button nose
scrabbling against the sheets.
Then one little grunt, and soon another;
soft coos and squeals crescendo to a chorus
of joyful babbles to salute the day--
my alarm clock.
I shuffle in,
eyes bleary, all-over weary, heart warming--
and peek around the doorframe.
Two bright chipmunk eyes, two black buttons
peer up at me between the slats.
Eyes twinkle, cheeks crinkle, nose wrinkles;
rosebud lips send fireworks sparkling across the morning--
This is my sunrise.
When you're awake, I like you best.
From my good-morning sunrise to my lullaby sunset
and my every hour in between;
from your first cry to my last breath,
until the echo of us fades, our souls' footprints blow away--
That's when I like you best.

I love you, Kx5!

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