swinging

You wake from your nap, arms reaching for me as I walk through your door.

I lift up all 28 lbs of you and bury my face in the nape of your neck – the place I can always smell a bit of heaven.

I slip out the back door, you on my hip, completely content.

I sit on the swing, with you in my lap.

For the first time today, we have a quiet moment to ourselves.

The mild breeze from swinging sways your baby hair back and forth.

The weight of you head on my chest, your chubby legs fallĀ on my lap.

The contentment of a beautiful life washes over me, and I think over you as well.

These moments are brief, but their effects are long-lasting.

My arms and legs are getting tired, but I’d sway here with you forever if you let me.

I soak in as much of your baby-ness in this moment as I can.

In all my life I’ve never been as happy as I am in this season right now, and much of that is because of you.

We sway back and forth, just the rustling of the leaves to be heard.

Then, they spot us.

The door swings open, and the other three head out our way, squealing with delight that you’re awake.

They run to the swings, asking for a turn, squishing your legs, asking if we can have tacos for dinner.

Our quiet moment is over, back to real life.

But this real life of ours is good.

It is very, very good.

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