After read time,
before dream time,
I curl beside my son,
fasten my arm around his chest,
safety for his nightly glide.
My son will say,
“Don’t let go,”
as if to fall asleep
is to fly,
and I’m his tandem partner,
the one in charge
of deploying his parachute.
“Stay with me
this many times.”
He holds up fingers
that can’t fully flex,
and even after hauling
the backpack of my day,
I am happiest to hug him
long past free fall.
His last request,
“Tuck me in, Mommy,”
and I frame him
in billowy, blue canopy.
Whisper, “I’m happy
to be your mommy,”
with back to the wind,
my smile bridling him
into the unscathed sky.
Before pulling the pilot chute
on our joyous flight.
It’s NaPoWriMo Day 8. Today is my son’s 5th birthday. Oh, the joy of being his mother! I hope this poem captures at least a fraction of my happiness. I’m glad to be dedicating my days to this little guy and his big sister.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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