May 30, 2007
No matter how relieved I am every evening at 8:00 when Ezra is tucked into his little bed- all comfy and cozy and sound asleep... no matter how much I've been looking forward to a quiet house and a good book... no matter how batty he's driven me during the course of the day... there is a gravitational pull that appears in the hallway by his door that I can't explain or deny once he's finally drifted off to his dreamy dreams. Every single night.
I get caught in it's force each night around 11:00, and my hand finds its own way to his little misshapen doorknob; the one with the chipped gold plating and that feels like it's made of tin and maybe I could crush it in my hand if I really wanted to.
I slowly open the door... and this is the part that gets me everytime... because all of the frustrations and worries and regrets and "NO. Ezra? Ezra what did I just say? Mommy said NO!'s", they stay on the other side of the door as I tiptoe across his carpet and think about how the moonlight coming through his blinds looks so... so... organized in its straight little rows on the floor.
I breathe deeply because, at this time of night, his is the most peaceful room in the house and it feels almost sacred. So, I breathe it in a little to get some of it into my lungs. My heart is always excited as I crawl into that little bed next to him and check his legs to make sure he's not too cold and I re-adjust his covers and place all THREE HUNDRED of his 'must-have bed toys' on the ground so that he isn't tossing and turning on little metal tractors and monster trucks all night long.
I brush the hair away from the nape of his neck and swoop it away from his eyes, and then I lean in next to his ear and whisper a weighty "I love you" that I almost wish he were awake to hear... just so he could understand how the words are so deep, they come from way down by my toes.
He smells like baby soap... I still buy the 'Johnson's Baby Wash' because that's baby smell in a bottle, aaaand I'll take 40 truckloads of it please and thankyouverymuch. If there's ever a shortage of 'Johnson's Baby Wash' in the stores, I don't want to be caught unprepared. It's the only link I have left to the days when he was new and I was afraid of breaking him if I held him wrong.
Then, I practically have to pull myself away from the very same boy I spend every other waking hour of my day with... quietly retracing my steps and then shutting the door behind me again with such care and respect that you'd think the room's contents were as fragile as a little paper kite.
at 10:59 PM