I’m his security blanket.
His heirloom quilt.
His calm after the storm.
And, trust me, there are storms.
When he feels overlooked.
When he feels unheard.
When I feel the same way, too.
Yet, each night he hurries to ask, “Mom, will you sleep with me?” Each night, he fits his a-little-bit-bigger body into that same curve of my arm.
Just like he did as a babe a few years ago.
And I hear the same breath and feel the same warmth on my skin.
And I can tell at this rate we’re going, he and I just won’t get enough time.
Do mamas ever really get enough time?
Because it may have been a few years since we first welcomed him home, but to me, it was only yesterday.
And even in those moments my patience is running thin, I know his socks are getting snug.
So, I’ll thank God each day for the season we’re in.
And the privilege it’s been to support him as he grows.
And I’ll give him a squeeze and a kiss on his cheek and ask God to cover and comfort us both.
Lord, comfort us both.
