When I softly open her door, her little fingers are folded tightly over the rails of her bed. She peeks over at me. A little hippity hop with each inch that I gain. Her cheeks are stained with with tears and her hair is sweaty and glued ever which way. She catches her breath only to begin another big inhale.
Intermission.
She knows I'm there to rescue her. She can't explain whats wrong but she knows I understand. Her arms fly up to her only sure thing. She knew I would come. I scooped her up and pulled her close. Her tiny legs wrapped around my waste and her head dove straight for my shoulder. The only place she desires...meant for her and her sister...designed by God to comfort and uplift them both. I sway my sway and her body relax...awh...the sense of accomplishment. Only to lay her down and see her big beatie eyes glancing back my way.
Round 2.
She's crying and it's my job to catch her alligator tears from making wave in her wonder world of a room. Her sister might not appreciate the extravaganza. So I make my stance where many a mother has made it before.
The bed side lean.
Arm draped over, hand softly upon her back. Pat-pat-pat. I keep patting because every mother knows that you can't abruptly stop in the middle of a pat-pat-pat moment...you must slowly pat until only your finger tips are touching and then, only then, can you stop.
My girls are my lifeline. Instead of dreading the late night moments such as these, they become new members of my treasure collection. Knowing that we've made it through it all thus far, I know that there will be plenty of sunshine and rain...my intent is to look for the many of rainbows to come.
So what's one cloudy day (or night in this case.)
Off for round 4, 5, or is it 10?
Good morning!
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