Life, November

Every single night before I turn in for bed, I sneak into Lucy's room.  I hold my hair back and quietly bend down to kiss her cheeks.  I can manage five or six before she starts to stir, and then I whisper, "I'll eat you up, I love you so!"  

A handmade quilt and hand-me-down pajamas.   This bed, piled high with stuffed animals, is my bed from when I was a child.  It now carries knitted blankets and a toy that shines the light of the stars on her walls.  It carries dreams, both scary and magical.  It carries my little girl in slumber.

This is what I would like to hold on to.  These images, this light. This is what I want to carry with me when she, like me, outgrows this bed.