Bedtime

When will you be too old to want me there at bedtime?
Will I always be the one you call when you are scared?
Will there come a day you won’t ask to sleep with us when you are ill?
I woke this morning, dangerously close to the edge of the bed.
Shoulder a little sore from the position I’d contorted into just to fit.
A little groggy, having woken up many times in the night.
A toss here, a turn there.
Your angel face and your little, sleeping body…
Not so little anymore.
You curl up beside me, snuggled in tight.
Hugging on to me like I was a teddy bear. Max. Your favorite.
The one whose fur is loved thin.
As if I contained all that comfort. Safety. Security.
I don’t see myself that way. I am still figuring it out.
But I treasure that you do. That I can be that for you.
That I can share these moments and bring you peace.
You bring me peace too.
Sore, squished, groggy and all…