It has struck me that I haven’t been writing enough lately, not writing in a literary way. I had actually forgotten to until a kind reader left me a comment on an old post. I’m grateful that they did and that Heather continues to offer us the challenge to Just Write
Balloons drift lazily across the hardwood floors, evidence of the chaos which has left the house.
The icing is hardening on the plates as I rinse and load the dishwasher.
My ears ring with the silence of the house, accustomed as they’d become with the squeals of little girls.
Dipping my hand in for the last dessert plate, I see your earlier pride as we all sang that annual song to your 6-year-old self.
Pulling the plug from the sink, I wipe the counters clean and taking one last look around I decide I’ve done enough for tonight.
In the dim light I creep down the hall, avoiding the ever-present squeaky spots and stand silently at your door.
Leaning in cautiously I see your shape under your princess comforter.
Gingerly I tiptoe to the bed and lightly pull the blanket off of your oh so darling little blonde head.
As I pull it further back I see that you’re lying on your back with your arms and legs askew, utterly relaxed with your lips pursed just as you’d done as an infant.
Surrounding you are the cards from your friends, bits of tissue paper, 2 Barbies, a talking pig and a goodie bag which mysteriously didn’t go home with a guest.
Slowly I gather your treasures, placing them into a basket beside your bed so that you won’t worry as you wake.
Smoothing the covers over you, I am once again struck by your beauty.
Your 6-year-old sleeping scent reaches my nose as I kiss your soft cheek lightly.
Creeping back to the door I turn just once more and inhale the moment, hoping to store it somewhere safe.
As I reluctantly retrace my path down the hall the feeling of being blessed graciously remains with me.
The word Love just doesn’t seem enough.