Go to Sleep Little Baby

She's sleeping. Quietly, not moving. Still. Both of us. I'm leaning, doubled over, just waiting. Watching her breathe. Waiting for the slightest twitch. I'll put my hand on her belly and gently sway.

She's still, and I freeze a few seconds longer. No accomplishment fulfills more than helping a sleepy baby, an 11 month old, round, fat, blissy, but fussy, baby overcome the drive to see, push, pull, and hear and succumb to sleep. She needs to sleep, and its such a relief to watch her quietly breathe.

That's because I love her. Right now, right here, nothing is more important to me than watching her sleep peacefully, comforted. No ambition greater. This little success casts an interminable shadow over all the rest. For right now.

And I pleasantly wish momentarily that what I feel would last forever.