Thursday, July 28, 2011

on napping, again. and why I am a fan.

I think I write a lot about nap time because it's the one time of day where my mind has a moment to focus.
The lens of my eye has a chance to adjust to the light-
Or the dark and in that quiet moment I can think
And often, he's the one I think about
when he's asleep I slip awestruck thoughts about him, about me, about the God who created us both into
My pocket
Reach my hand in
And rattle them around in my palm
Little gold coins of wonder

His head smells of sweat and cotton and salty sweet sleep

His little pudgy hand grips his diaper where it meets his thigh in his sleep

His eyelashes, like fingernail clippings, set side by side in a half-moon arc

His bottom lip pulled in, like he's trying not to laugh during the serious business of sleep

And today, he sleeps on my bed, going on an hour and I first did dishes, sorted the mail, changed the laundry.

Then I crept back up, my hand full J.Crew's latest eye candy catalogue and I flipped through, silently, next to him by the light of the window above my bed.

It's cool and quiet and I'm tempted to fall asleep too, but he's pushing an hour, which never happens, so I don't want to press my luck.

Sent from my iPhone


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