I check on them before I go to sleep. I’ve done this nearly every night I’ve been with them. It’s the thing I do, the thing that sets my mind at ease before I allow myself those hours of respite.
In the wintertime, they’re all bundled up. Curled beneath thick blankets, it is easy to imagine them as the small little babies they once were. And perhaps always will be in my mind, my heart. Now that the heat has started to creep back into the house, they wear the short jammies their legs are steadily growing out of. They lay long and lean on their beds with sheets and covers kicked aside.
It’s a shock. They’re growing so quickly. The time is going by so quickly. I feel I’m in this halcyon moment that is rapidly ticking away. Soon they’ll be worried about looks, about trends. About fitting in. For the moment they’re their own little bulwarks of independence, of id and ego. But even this flame is starting to flicker.