"Who ran to help me when I fell, or kissed the place to make it well? ....My mother."
- Ann Taylor
I drove through a sleet soaked rain falling against a backdrop of black, not a twinkle visible, save the oncoming traffic and lights in the rear view, to my littlest running to the door in a roused greeting. His voice high-pitched and excited, carving an indelible impression on my heart as it rang out, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" followed only a moment later by, "Diaper stinky. Brayden need bath."
My mom asked if she could change his diaper to which his quick reply was, "No, mommy do it."
And I did it.
At that point the weariness creeping up my legs from standing in heels for 11 hours before my hour drive home didn't matter, it faded into the background. My life at that moment was him.
We sat cheek to cheek, his whispy lashes blinking across my skin, our breaths mingling to form one exhale before I laid him down to sleep... before I fell asleep.
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