Allie is asleep in my bed as I write.
Early Monday morning. Too early for a girl who loves the night, loves to play and colour and talk and draw pictures of her and I smiling the same half-smile. I’m always the taller one in her pictures. And remarkably thin. And with more crayon hair than I’ve seen since my thirtieth birthday.
When she is away I miss her terribly, and I know she misses me too because the first night back, after she unloads her clothes and her weekend and the things she did, she hops onto my bed and smiles, “I’m sleeping with you tonight daddy.”
A lot of yes and no goes through my mind. But I know that soon she will change and she will love the silence of her room, her own thoughts and plans. But today, tonight, I have the TV in my room, and that makes sleeping on the bed with daddy a lot more fun than sleeping alone.
When I wake at three a.m. with the TV still on and loud, I dig out the remote from under her arm and put an end to the day. Now it’s just her breathing I hear. I make sure the blankets are covering her - which is never a problem because she likes to cocoon herself in them.
Then I hold her hand for just a minute. Not long enough to wake her, but long enough to feel her nine years pass through it like a wish. I kiss her sleeping hair and realize that like all trying parents, I’m both there and not there at the same time.
This is beautiful. It gets me excited for the days that Thalia is old enough to draw things besides accidental phallic symbols.
Thanks for the sidebar shout out by the way. I'm certainly surprised to hear that I have only one child, because I have this very clear recollection of going through labor twice. Eh, maybe it was gas.
Posted by: Mom101 | August 13, 2007 at 11:29 AM