Here I am, lying down in your room on a pillow on the floor. It's completely dark, but I can hear you yawning and turning onto your side beneath the covers. I feel like I'm just now ready to begin talking about the day we've spent together. But I've waited too long.
You should know that the same thing often happens when your mom and I go to sleep. So many things will suddenly pop into my head well into the night; topics of conversation, random ideas, or just general observations. Just as I'm ready to flick on the night light and start talking, I'll often discover that she's fast asleep. And, as you know, she's quite the sleeper.
Part of me wants to reach over your bed and turn on the light right now. We could just talk. You could tell me all about your ballet class and what it felt like to just dance freely to that music. You might not know that I got to watch some video of your performance earlierin the day. Your mom sent me some pictures, too. I told her they were perfect. But I didn't get to tell you yet.
A car just passed by our house and the headlights streamed through your room for a few moments. I looked up and saw that you're now asleep. You're sleeping flat on your back again. I'm going to pull the covers over you before I leave the room, and I'll be sure to do it quickly and quietly before I tip toe out into the hallway.
Tomorrow morning at breakfast I promise to come prepared with a full list of topics for conversation, random ideas, and general observations about all kinds of things. I won't wait too long to start talking this time. I'll probably begin yapping away as I'm stirring your oatmeal and getting your orange juice ready in your favorite plastic cup. You know how quickly time flies in the morning.
But for now, I think I'll stay in your room just a little while longer, in case you suddenly wake up and have the urge to turn on your light.
Created: Dec 02, 2014Document Media