Suddenly Not Sleep-Deprived
“Momma. Momma? Momma!!!”
It’s the darkest time of night.
A little voice crashes into my slumber.
Creak, crack go the floorboards as I fumble towards her room.
Her tiny face, muddled with sleep,
is happy to see me.
Like in the old days
hour after hour she would call and her daddy or I would go
Creak, crack on the floorboards, fumbling towards her room,
Again and again.
A steady hot river of coffee flowed into our veins, lifting us above the days, weeks, months and years of
not enough sleep.
Now the nighttime calls are less frequent.
They are almost a privilege,
The closing of the chapters of six years and two babies.
When the call comes I go
Creak, crack on the floorboards, fumbling towards her room,
To hold her close and rock her
Breathe in her warm smell
And listen to her gentle breaths
That echo those long, long nights that are slowly fading.
This is Two
“I love you, Mommy.”
Her voice, so new and fresh, whispers in my ear.
Tiny, silky-smooth arms grasp my neck, pulling me closer so we are cheek to cheek.
The early morning sun splashing on our faces as the coffee gurgles and steams and milk pours into an orange plastic sippy cup.
This deepening, mother-daughter love that
overwhelms and calms
amazes and exhausts
This love is two years new.
murphy must have had kids 