Thursday, February 19, 2015

My whole life story on the back of his big brown eyes

This evening you dried my tears.

It has been a hard week, and I collapsed on the couch with fatigue and frustration. I couldn't help it. At first the tears welled up in my eyes in big hot pools, and then once they started to fall I couldn't control them and began to cry in earnest. 

You have been constipated and had asked for a diaper so you could squat under the end table and PUSH while you played with your toys. When you realized I was crying you popped up and came running over.

Patting my arm you said soothingly, "It's okay, mama. You don't need to cry, mama." You searched my face with concern written all over yours. "Sophia dry up the tears of mama," you suggested. I smiled.

"You want to dry my tears? Want me to get you a tissue?" I reached for the box on the table.

You clutched the tissue in your little hand and clumsily but earnestly blotted my cheeks and eyes.  It was the most simple, loving gesture. I hugged and kissed you.  "Thank you, baby," I whispered into the hair at your temple. "You're my best."


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