the sweet night

Child,
You are a fire in my heart.

You are the sleepless in my night.

We share a turning, you and I. Late at night when I settle into bed, long after your Mom has curled up to sleep, I reach for you. I rest on my side and gently push against your red room. And you always push back. A kick, a punch, a rumble and tug, a twist inside; you keep my hours.

Do you feel the same perfect stillness I do, the way the cool air and darkness wrap over us like an ivy? The night is alive, full of promise and possibility. You might have the greatest idea ever for a story or hear the perfect crush of a song in the headphones. Raccoons may come prospecting in your backyard or maybe you just bounce in place, subject to a strange gravity no one admits to understanding. Every morning I make a promise to sleep and every night I break it. Sleep is all fine and good, but it feels like thievery. I drag through my days, anxious for the life the night brings. I come alive.

And there you are, bouncing and bashing around. At one, at two and even at three, I feel you swimming, rolling in space. I make guesses: hands or feet? dreaming or awake? rumba or disco?

Everyone seems delighted to warn us about sleep loss. They remind us that we won't get a good night's sleep for two years. Exhaustion is apparently a symptom of parenthood. I know that there will be nights when I will wish and wish that you would sleep. But I also know that the only thing that would make this very night any better would be you near me. I would love to share this time with you.

When I lay down to sleep and rest my hand on your belly home, as I will do shortly, I am briefly alone with you. I talk to you, words too quiet to hear, but sent nonetheless. I tell you about my day or about the last idea or song I heard humming through the wires. And you kick and punch and rumba along, living the night your own private way. When I drop my hand and lose my contact with you, I get sad for one minute. I can't explain it exactly. I miss you. I wonder how long until you kick again or bash and bounce around. I feel sorry that I will miss it, finally laid low, temporarily defeated by sleep.

You are a fire in my heart.

pa-