held
Thursday, April 23, 2015My Littlest One is sick. He is so little and uncomfortable and there is nothing I can do to help him.
Except hold him and rock him and sing softly in his ear. And tell him that he will feel himself again, soon.
This morning we just sat together, on my favourite chair, in a quiet corner and he slowly fell asleep. I could feel his heavy chest rising and falling, gently.
And I just sat. And looked out the window. And soaked him up.
It was completely, imperfectly, perfect.