We came back from holiday, arriving home at 4:30am, 10 hours later than we had planned.
Your dad was tired, and he had work later that Saturday, so I offered to sleep in your room so he could get some sleep.
6 nights later and I am still here. Still sleeping here. Right with you.
I watch you sleep, I tell you how much I love you, I kiss you, I tuck you in although you soon shuffle out and kick the covers off.
I leave the landing light on, your door slightly open, enough so you can see the floor, just as you request.
I listen to you sleeping, I wait for you to hear me too. To open your eyes, see me, smile, then close your eyes, content that I am close.
I wonder what you are dreaming about. I know what the answer would be if I asked you.
Dinosaurs and trains.
But I wonder what you really are dreaming of.
Life is so hectic at the moment for you. Big things are happening. Are they in your dreams?
Your mouth slightly open, your head tilted back, one of your knees raised, your hand resting softly on the edge of the bed. You look so peaceful.
You look so beautiful.
You move.
From your back to your side.
Your mouth now closed. Your hand now dangling over the bed.
At almost 28 I still worry that a foot or hand dangling over the bed will get bitten by a crocodile. Will you ever have that fear? A monster instead of crocodile maybe?
I wonder if you will wake up tonight. Needing me as you always say.
Wanting a cuddle.
A tickle back. A drink. A wee.
Just wanting me.
There.
Next to you.
It's silly really. Mummies leave their children every day, going back to work leaving smaller children, taking their children to school, we're not the only ones going through this.
But it feels like we are.
I feel like I have put this protective bubble around us. I don't want anyone in. I don't want to hear anything else. I just want it to be me and you.
I don't want to get caught up in competitiveness that always surrounds occasions such as this.
Who is the saddest at their child leaving? Whose child got on the best, or the worst?
I don't care. I don't care about anyone else but us right now.
It may sound selfish, but you are my priority, and I need to be focused on you. And on me. On us. On us coping, getting things right. Making you happy, secure. Happy.
I'm watching you. Wanting you to wake up. Wanting you to need me.
I want you to need a cuddle. Or need one of your wonderful half asleep/half awake talks.
I'm listening to you. Breathing, the occasional moan or groan, a slight snore and a heavy sigh.
Talking in your sleep. Breathing.
I want to go to sleep. Wake up in a different time. When you don't go to school yet. So we have more time.
We've had 4 years together. We are so lucky.
I have loved every minute. And I'm not ready to give it up. Not ready to give you up.
I can't let go of you.
It's only school. I went, I did fine. Children go everyday.
But it's different when it's your own child. It might not really be about letting go. But those hours you are gone, you won't be mine. I want to be there.
Throughout it all.
I want you to wake up.
I feel sick.
I want to talk to you.
You understand me. You know when I need you. When something is wrong, you just know.
You are a part of me. You know me inside and out.
I don't want to not have you there when I may need you.
You may be 4 but you are my best friend. I can talk to you about anything. Anything.
You understand. You just get me.
A mattress on your floor.
Watching you sleep.
Stealing those last moments of just you and me.
Our bubble.
Stronger than ever.
Soon to be popped.
Although you can't see me, I'll always be there.
I'll always be thinking of you.
A mattress on your floor.
The place I want to sleep. For now.
Just watching you. Excited for the moment you wake up in the morning, stumbling over to me, talking to me in your cuter than cute way.
Snuggling into me. Squeezey cuddles. Just us.
A mattress on your floor. My bed. The only place I want to sleep.
Near you.
I love you.
