A Life That Can Save You

Pieces of a life that can save you:
Waking and knowing there is something for you to do, someone who needs you, whom you need
Going to your small son, who is calling for you in the dark
Noticing by his slight movements and intuitive familiarity that he needs to be rocked and held after nursing
Carrying him to the chair in the living room with tentative steps, carefully letting your eyes adjust to navigate the strewn remnants of the day
Settling into a reflexive space of attention
Looking through the short distance of the semi-dark into his eyes, sparkling with sleep, which are fixated on yours
Breathing in unison
Tracing his soft mouth with your gaze, remembering who he has been since he came to you, and kissing his forehead with tears in your throat
Looking up and out the window to the streetlamps made hazy by rain, your brow soothed by the breeze
Feeling a small hand touch you so lightly on the cheek, he might be wondering if you're awake, and letting his fingers guide your glance back down to his searching face as you marvel at the simple beauty of this moment - a sweet microcosm of heaven, his desire to be with you
Looking at each other until he rubs his eyes
Whispering, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always - as long as I'm living, my baby you will be"
Letting him settle and resettle until, at last, he finds the place that he needed, that you would do anything to help him find again and again
Returning through the house to his room, a sacred space you share, and taking your time before laying him down
Aching as he easily sinks into comfort and rest away from you, your sighs in tune with his heavy breath of slumber
Risking waking him to touch his cheek gently before slipping away
Remembering the full moon behind the clouds and darkness, and sitting a while longer alone, contemplative and wistful, but fulfilled
Returning to the warm bed of silence, washed by rain, and releasing memory and consciousness to the stars.