A Precious Moment

Your hair tickles my face as I rock you to sleep. Your head falls heavily onto my chest and your body is curled into mine. I wrap my arms as completely as possible around your long torso and legs. Back and forth we rock together.

Your hair smells so good- just a hint of Johnson's baby shampoo but mostly just your own sweet scent, filling my senses. I bury my face in your hair. It is long and fluffy and silky soft, some of the individual hairs twice as long as the rest- those are the ones that were there on your birthday. The rest have filled in since then, still wispy and baby smooth.

I run my fingers through your hair. Old ladies like to smooth it down flat, but I have always loved it fluffed and voluminous. For months it continued to grow straight up, in a whimsical defiance of gravity. Finally it is starting to weight itself down, aging you from baby into toddler.

Your small fingers grasp my shirt in a mighty fist, and in the dim light I can see the delightful crease where your arm and your hand meet. We rock quickly in the stillness. You were always calmed by motion. The white noise blares and drowns out the sound of the outside world. It is quiet, calm and still here amidst the white noise and the rocking. Back and forth, back and forth. The tickle of your sweet smelling hair against my nose. Your cuddled warmth causes your cheek to stick to me and your hair becomes slightly sweaty, clinging to the side of your head now heavy with sleep. We breath slowly and rock quickly together in the dark, tangled up together cozy as can be. A warm moment frozen in time- the loud silence, the still rocking and the peace of being so entirely enveloped in you.