but somehow, here, we are not afraid. we are friends with the dark sky and greet it warmly and together, each and every night. i feel safe in the bosom of our home, and often tell my husband that i imagine her to be a big hipped woman who keeps us safe in her skirt. i am aware this does not make sense to probably any one but me.
so tonight, while waiting for the water for my tea to boil, i propped my son onto our tiled countertops and we looked out our kitchen window above the sink and were kinda just quiet together. my husband bought waffles (after we saw this movie) so i popped them into the toaster for a little treat for us both. one for him, one for me. and there we were, eating waffles on the counter, with a bit of butter and cinnamon, ooo-ing and ahh-ing at their perfection. it was so simple and so beautiful and so very much one of those life moments.
while i steeped my tea bag, gus was spinning in circles with his batman rain boots on singing a song only he knows. he became so excited with himself that he flailed his arms out and actually hit my face incredibly hard. i reacted by telling him that it hurt mama and placed my hand on my cheek showing him where. he came over quickly, dipping his back into my chest and reached back into my neck and said "hi mama," and wrapped his waffley, sticky hands into my hair. i kissed his wild curls and told him how much i loved him, and in that moment, i became nostalgic for what hasn't happened yet.
i became nostalgic for nights any different than these.
have you ever been in a moment where you already miss it before it's even passed? i looked at him spinning with a waffle in his hand, and realized that he will probably never remember this. he will have so many more nights on this earth, and i don't know if there will ever be a night of mine where i won't remember this one.