dear precious son,

this time is so fleeting. all of these moments are so precious. i find myself wishing i could just bottle them up and store them away, and bring them out whenever i wanted, when this time is gone.

last night you were a chatterbox. i can’t sleep if i hear the slightest sound from you. i often look enviously over at your papa, dreaming away. if i hear the slightest peep from you, it keeps me up.

sometimes, i think maybe i go to you too quickly. that maybe you are just in a chatty mood, and not necessarily hungry at that moment. so last night, i decided to lay there and listen.you didn’t sound particularly unhappy, so i lay there and listened, to the night sounds of the flat.

you, and the dog.

you groaned.

the dog sighed.

you groaned some more.

the dog got up, and i heard her little paws clack across the hardwood floor to her water dish in the living room. patpatpatpatpatpatpat.

slurp slurp slurp slurp, along with the ring-ring-ring of her collar against the bowl, a noise which sometimes causes guests to jump and look around, wondering what on earth that sound is.

patpatpatpatpat, back to her spot next to my bed, under yours.

you groaned some more.

the dog let out a sigh.

these moments, you and her, won’t last forever. i suppose i was thinking about this yesterday, because i was looking at some old photos, and came across some of emma when i first found her. so young and spry.

i know these moments won’t last forever. i wish i could bottle them up and save them so i could visit them in the future, when they are gone

but i can’t.

but i can lie awake, and listen, for as long as they are here.


One thought on “fleeting

  1. Pingback: It’s off to work I go | Letters to my ̶s̶o̶n̶ children

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