Your little frame moves in a small and safe rhythm on my chest. Your fingers are open while the soft round of your palm rests protectively on the raised topography of my scar. It is a secret string of pearls buried beneath my skin. You have preformed your own kind of heart surgery.
The speed at which you are growing, and evolving is breathtaking as it is frightening. But tonight, you forgot that you want to do it yourself and be big; and be separate from me. You are small and sleepy and all mine. You are a beautiful ball of damp golden hair, arms and skinny legs tightly folded up – like you would have been two and a half years ago.
I want to hold you like this forever. I want to remember the smell of your just-washed hair because I know this moment will become almost mythical.
Tomorrow you will feel better and need me less. You will be out of reach for most of the day. Tomorrow, I will only be the distant shoreline while you discover the world, yourself and others in the sea of experiences. That ocean is growing deeper daily … and more scary.
But now, I wrap you up in my arms and hold you for a while longer. I kiss your crown. Please know I will always be your safe harbour, my little mermaid. Swim back to me, always.