Hold Me

You called out in the middle of the night for me, “Mommy, Mommy!”

You said to hold you in the big chair.

I held you close and rocked you. I tucked the tiny blanket around you.

It was quiet and dark in the room, except for your breathing, and I could hear cars rush off along the street.

You folded yourself into the bend of my arm and curved around my lap.

I thought about how big you are yet how small, like a baby.

I feel the floor below me, the seat as I rock back and forth, and the chilly night air around us, but you are warm and wonderful in my arms.

For days and nights and years I’ve rocked you. I’ve snuggled with you.

You are true

and fun

and smart

Your blue eyes are like shining raindrops

Your face like a cream puff or delicious biscuit I could nibble.

The curls in your hair like a spring bouquet of flowers.

But most of all, your tiny hands that hold mine, lace up with my fingers and connect.

You are the puzzle piece, the magic spell, the shooting star, the hole in one, and the silver lining. Except you aren’t a cliche at all, you are real and wonderful for just being you.

You are, feeling the warm neck of a horse, you are catching frogs by the creek in summer, you are like eating mother’s cooking, you are being alone in a field of hay, you are a baseball game under the lights, you are sitting on the couch and singing Christmas carols, late summer nights with friends at the movie theatre, a teenage night on the boardwalk, you are like listening to Van Morrison or Dylan on a long road trip through the hills at night, you are a bedtime story recorded on a tape player, you are the best things from my childhood but you are you. You are all that to me, but right now you are my little one and it’s just us in the big chair and the little room, at night. Rockabye darling.