Sometimes I catch my breath...

It is very late and I look in on my children. I open the door to their room and listen to their soft breath in the stillness of the night. I pull the covers back over Boy, who is lying sideways with his sweet little foot dangling over the side of his toddler bed. He senses my presence and turns away from the dim hallway light, cuddling with his "baby jaguar." I gently kiss his soft cheek, marveling at his long eye lashes and move over to Girl's little bed. She, too, has kicked off all of her covers. Her hair is a mass of ringlets at night, inspired by the warmth of the room. I sweep the bangs off her face, kiss her impossibly round cheek and readjust the covers. She rolls back on her tummy and scoots over to the wall side of her bed. Before I leave the room I stand quietly at the door...sometimes I catch my breath. This is my life. This is it. I am living it and how did this happen? This wondrous gift of my children...I cannot describe the joy or the catch at the back of my throat. It is deeper and bigger than anything I could ever have imagined.

	Tweet