Snuggles

Oh little one. You play a good game with your huge smile, your bright eyes, and your confident strut. I know its not a complete charade. At your core you really are as strong and happy and full of life as you let the world think you are.

Don't worry, you are safe with me. It's ok to show me your hole - the empty space. The space eroded in your soul from over six years spent competing with 350 other kids for attention, for a morsel of soul-nourishing love. I'll do my best to shoulder some of its weight; I know how mighty it can be.

I'll admit. Sometimes that hole feels like it could swallow both of us. Sometimes I don't feel like I have enough of myself to give to you. Enough to make up for six years of lost snuggles and motherly adoration. How do I fill it up? How can I possibly hold you long and tight enough, wrapped in your quilt like the tiny baby that instead lay alone in her crib?

For now I'll just have some faith in time. Time is one thing we've got, you and me. Time after school to do nothing but learn the rhythm of each other's breathing and feel the warmth of each others bodies as you nestle in my lap, head tucked under my chin. Time, year after year, for me to prove to you that I'll pick you up when you fall down, that I'll sit in silent sadness with you so you don't have to sit there alone, that I'll be there watching and cheering you on when you score a goal in soccer or sail across the monkey bars. That I am your mommy until the end of time.