I found you again, in the space between bedtime and sleep. Nestled between my legs, the baby that you were and the mother I became.
Oh but stay small, little one!
Shadows of the years play out in memory across the walls. The shape of toys past, nothing now but a trick of the light. The morse code of a dog, barking warning into the night that we too will grow old, and time will not wait.
In this stillness, I find myself, again.
But I am different now. No longer new, the years change us mothers too. Where once I rocked you to sleep, now you read to me while I wonder what the future will bring. A time when you don’t need me so? A time to come when I long for this quiet, calm pause; where I see myself clearly, laid bare wrapped up in you. There’s a last time for everything, slipping by unheeded. But surely not yet, for I am not ready.
And the silent stars go by.