It is early morning, as I sit in the glider chair, slowly rocking my little baby back and forth. She nurses slowly, with little gurgles and grunts, and as I rock, her breathing becomes long and steady.
I hear a car drive down the street, and by the sound of the tires on the pavement, I know it’s cold outside. All the more reason to relish this time, cuddled up in the chair with a warm little baby.
Footsteps up the stairs. Is it my son? He will be tearfull when he gets to my room, sees that I’m not there. He will come looking for me, and it will be time to start our morning. I wait. Nothing.
Then I think back and realize the steps were too fast, too confident. It was the dog, heading to my room for one last snooze. He will be curled up in the corner of the floor, waiting for the rhythm of our day to begin.
And so I relax into the chair again, relishing the quiet and the coziness, the little baby breaths against my body. And I rock.
