Just went upstairs and tucked Abigail back into bed. She might be getting ill and seems to have a cough. I carried her from the bathroom to her bed, her arms and legs wrapped around me, a whole-body-hug in the dark. Then I arranged her pillows and covered her with her sheet, blanket and comforter, pulling each layer over her and tucking it around her body. Ziakin, her stuffed dog, lay beside her face, fur soft on her cheek as she reached an arm around him. Michaela remained asleep in her bed as I tiptoed past her into the hallway. I closed the door and coveted my daughters’ dreams.
How I wish I could sleep like a child! Cuddled beneath blankets and surrounded by stuffed animals. The world soft and warm and snuggly. Being a small body sleeping in a great big bed. I miss that sense of security and safety. The simplicity. The view from a child’s eyes, when you know mommy and daddy are watching out for you. All you need to do is sleep. Close your eyes and rest until breakfast. All will be right tomorrow just as it was today. No piles, no papers, no bills to pay.
I sigh with desire as I leave them in their rooms, my little girls curled up and cuddling. So often now for me sleep seems necessity, some sort of requirement to make it to morning. I give myself only what I need. It is more like a luxury than an allowance.
I must let myself dream.
